The Keeper

Every family has one, mine is my Aunty Joan: 95 years young

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A keeper of stories –
Old enough to know,
With answers to share
And secrets to keep,
Who, in-between sleep,
May divulge a tale or two
Of times gone by.
The keeper dips into
The well of family lore
To bring forth a story
At the end of the rope,
Spinning rainbows of hope
Between the clouds
On a rainy day.

The stories are old,
All heard before,
Every word is known,
They’re a joy to hear,
A treat for the ear,
Building memories
To pass on.
Our lives are richer
For the stories heard
The past made present
To be viewed anew
And talked through,
Together,
Once again.

(c) wordz2go Feb 2018

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