Grandma

In the darkness the silence is shattered
by footsteps as a solitary figure walks
on a well known road.
A row of giant arms reaches out
as if in comfort
Her cries echo and bounce off the
encircling hills
like a wildcat calling to its' mate.
The grave is covered with flowers
and still she waits
the key passes from one hand to the other
Is it to the secrets of her heart?
Her own pass her by
a large desolate farmhouse looms near
laughter is only a ghost here
gone now
only her call 'come bossy'
remains.