The Storyteller

Gray heads and bright eyes face me, waiting,

expecting…what? It is ever this unknown that sends a chill

shivering through my blood.

I face them and begin.

Will it be what they want, what they need

at this moment of their/our lives, this split second of all the time

that has and will pass before they/we close our ears to the last sounds

we will hear in this vale of laughter and tears?

Will I know that this was right, this was enough,

or will I walk away still with the chill in my veins?

About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
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