Friday 9 August 2019


A small brown bird flies close to me.
Yesterday, a butterfly -
- white, monarch -
I scent my grandmother near.

She was not a poet
Nor a deep thinker,
But she liked the quiet,

Which was strange
Because she hated to be bored;
And yet she could sit for hours

On balconies, in conservatories,
With only herself for company,
A book, a ticking clock,
And the sky - ever changing, ever the same.

©Shaista Tayabali, 2019
Inspired by Vera, my beloved grandmother who died a few days after my birthday, six years ago... both our anniversaries are coming up as Vera and I were born only two days apart. Many lifetimes but only two days... 

 Participating in DVerse Poets Friendly Call to Open Link night ... 


H. Hennenburg said...

Grandparents can inspire such powerful love. Your grandmother sounds like the still water that runs deep in your heart. A lovely tribute you’ve written.

Jade Li said...

Pretty lady that you obviously love still very much.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

My heart always gladdens when i see a new post from you on my blogroll. Your grandma, your mother and you - all beauties. My grandma and i were very close, too. I love that she could sit in stillness for hours. Me, too.

Frank Hubeny said...

Nice description of your grandmother: "she hated to be bored;
And yet she could sit for hours"

indybev said...

Isn't it wonderful that a small thing (like the butterfly) can awaken the memories stored in the attic of our brains and bring a loved one lost close again?

Jennifer Wagner said...

Shaista, this is a beautiful tribute.

Grace said...

This a lovely tribute and really like the photo too!

Scott Romero said...

Very thoughtful bloog

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