Gran'ma's Switches (poetry)

green and pliable
with stinging strength
smelling of sap and new-born bark
smooth like her skin
nice to touch
not nice when the touch is returned
quickly slicing the air
you hear it
before you feel it
as the switch slipped up on you
with only a soft swish in the air for warning

her hands were quick
like her temper
ageless--the switch never wilted
it's strength never waned
Hers did.

so sat the switch
still in the corner
where gran'ma sat
still in the chair

one growing rigid, weak, and worn
while the other remains--
still

In memory of my grandmother, Mary Lois Gauntt--affectionately known to all simply as M'Dear