She’s sitting in her rocking chair,
her daughter at her feet.
Her hands braid the child’s hair,
who, with her voice so sweet
Asks her mother with a start
to tell the story, please
of the first boy to steal her heart
and make her weak at the knees.
She smiles and looks across the room,
remembering her young and handsome groom,
and points to him sitting in his chair,
“That’s him, my love. That’s him, right there.”
Silenticel 