It was known every evening where the feet leads
Not even mind nor the eyes
The hut was warm, and we packed like bread in the oven
Chain of stories, what ears don't here often
As her raspy stammering speech told it all
All of us keenly lending her all ears
Deeper we sunk in the anecdote and felt real
That when she narrated you'd feel the thrill
To some point, she pinned our imaginations with fear
A wisdom way to send young to bed for a lesson they wouldn't bear
The old ma'am would only giggle and do the proceeding
As she knew how sweet was the tale feeding
History was filled in her as she spew memories
Actually, as listeners, we jumped from the present and lived the past
With gestures, sounds, mimicry she made it so lively
She was gifted that everyone was yearning for more
"hey, good night friends, tomorrow God willing," she said..
The library where all read and heard from one.
In the granny's hut..
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