Grandma’s Chair

On Grandma’s porch, there’s an iron chair
I close my eyes, and she’s sitting there
Head slightly bent, in silent prayer…
 
When I open them up she’s really there, 
Rocking in this front porch chair…

The truth is…

I have no clue how long she’s been there, 
In this iron sitting chair 
Whispering her fervent plea,
For the angels to guard over me

I’ve always known, 
Somewhere-
Someone-
Prayed for me,
With a sense of urgency,
With old time faith and true belief
Never to quit, never to cease….

Each time I visit 
I spy this chair,
Nonchalantly sitting there
On the porch without a care,
As if it wasn’t filled with prayers

 And now and then she’ll stop and sit
 And I’ll watch Grandama pray in it,
I always wonder what she says 
When she sits out there and prays,

And once everyone has gone inside
It’s now my turn,

To give it a try…

I take my seat in Grandma’s chair 
And thank the Lord that she’s still here.
#Poetry

©Words With Faith2017

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