Frank Beacon: My Grandmother's Voice My gramma spoke to me today Of a time long before my birth When she was a little girl like me On a different sort of earth. She spoke of recordings on vinyl; Big disks of red, yellow or black. And phones with dials, not buttons When only a cougher would hack. She said that her shoes had laces, Or buckles, velcro was still unknown. She watched TV in black and white, And washed dishes all on her own. She laughed as she talked about baseball Played in sunlight, not under the lamps. And said that his love of the old ball game Was what attracted her to dear old gramps. My father, she said, was a pill to raise, Always getting in trouble, it seemed. Yet he turned out all right, in spite of himself. As she spoke I could see her face beam. My grandmother passed on twenty years ago now, So I can't tell her how much I care. But her computerized voice still speaks to my heart, A part of her will always be there. Frank Beacon [email protected]