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Dark, gray-black storm clouds,
What fear arises in her heart…
Not just being alone,
With others, the same fear.
Pacing the floor, wringing her hands.
Has faith in God,
But this irrational fear takes over
When she sees the sky turn dark colors.
Lived by herself, but walked next door,
Pretending just to visit
Just so she wouldn't be alone,
And said, "Looks like a cloud's coming up".
Even in a crowded room of relatives
During the storm, pacing and wringing her hands.
And now, I am beginning to be the same way.
Don't like those dark clouds…
Like grandmother, like granddaughter….
Copyright 2001
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