Jason - Family

Seven Wooden Tiles, for my Grandmother

The seven wooden tiles longed to find their place,
Her fingers brushed the plate and potential arose.
The seven wooden tiles longed to find their place,
A word to beat my dad so cleverly composed.
Our time with her was treasured. Moments sought and sweet,
Her fingers brushed the plate and potential arose,
An orange became the wings. A simple loving feat,
A ritual of fruit and joy delivered so.
Our time with her was treasured, moments sought and sweet,
Long hours of delight locked away in sorrow.
That moment I found Juicy Fruit, unwrapped, her gum,
A ritual of fruit and joy delivered so.
And so, that flavor, did my mind unlock and run.
An empty chair remains beside the board I see,
That moment I found Juicy Fruit, unwrapped, her gum.
I’m taken back to Scrabble games, the apple tree,
The seven wooden tiles longed to find their place.
An empty chair remains beside the board I see,
And seven wooden tiles long to find their place.