I savored my granddaughter’s emerging poise today, her outspoken delight in all things elegant and fine. She exclaimed over old favorites (my antique china plates) and new discoveries (trinkets in my display hutch). Just about everything seemed special through her eyes.
While sitting at the table sipping chai tea from a delicate
teacup, she looked out over the windswept lake, her gaze soft and wistful. “I wish I
lived here. The lake is so…graceful.”
This is the voice of a poetic heart.
1 comment:
What a sweetheart!
"Graceful" IS such a poetic word.
Sounds like she follows in your footsteps.
(Which craft did she choose? Or did you spend your time in another way?)
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