How Grandmothers Began

My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale weaver #75 July 7th – Bedtime Stories for Grandparents

 

Once upon a time,

When the world had just begun,

Everything was fresh and new

And everyone was young,

No grandfathers like you

Or grandmothers like me,

No-one to tuck you in

Or read a bedtime story.

One morning, a little girl

Was in a sapling wood,

Collecting nuts and berries

(As the little girl was good),

When suddenly, from behind some trees,

A wood nymph appeared,

And because the girl was innocent

She hadn’t any fear.

Now wood nymphs are magic,

They weave all sorts of spells,

Which sometimes turn out tragic

And rarely transpire well.

‘What wish can I grant you?

What is it that you need?’

‘I don’t need anything,’

The little girl replied,

‘But my friends need someone

To tuck them up at night.

Someone who tells stories,

Someone who sings songs

And keeps them warm and safe

So they dream the whole night long.’

The wood nymph led the little girl

To a flowering hawthorn tree;

She drew the sap in an acorn cup

And, chuckling with glee,

She made the child drink it up.

She fell into a deep sleep

And when she awoke,

She was lying on a bed of leaves

Beneath a little oak.

The wood nymph had gone,

It was the middle of the night

And she was all alone.

The ground was damp and cold,

Her fingers cracked,

She had an aching back,

Her skin was creased and old.

But oh! She had stories,

That she couldn’t wait to tell

And knowledge of good magic

To keep children safe and well.

 

© Kim M. Russell, 2016

Grandmother Oak

Image found on Pinterest

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7 thoughts on “How Grandmothers Began

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