Granny’s Ghost

Granny’s Ghost

Granny’s ghost sits in her chair,

Rocking slowly, thin as air.

Eyes like whispers, soft and deep,

Watching while the children sleep.

Her knitting rests upon her knee,

Half a scarf and memory.

The fire’s out, the room is still,

Our Granny lingers, strong of will.

She hums a tune from long ago,

A lullaby we used to know.

No lips move, yet we all hear

That fading song floating nearer and near.

She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t frown,

She only watches, gazes down.

As though to say, I’m still around,

Though now I barely make a sound.

The clock ticks on, the curtains sway,

But Granny’s ghost won’t drift away.

She’s part of walls, of floor and air,

A quiet shape still sitting there.

Her hands once warm are shadows now,

Still folded neat beneath her brow.

She loved this room, this quiet light,

And so she visits every night.

No need for fear, no need to run.

She’s not here to frighten anyone.

Just watching life from her old place,

A gentle smile on her faint face.

So when the dusk begins to fall,

And silence gathers in the hall.

Know Granny’s ghost is near, not far,

Still rocking where the memories are.