The bell nailed on the house.
Distant laughter of screaming children.
The two would soon be one
as a wrinkled hand
grabbed the chain
and whipped it furiously.
Pavlov’s dog re-imagined
in the speedy response to lunch
the bell demanded.
Parents ring and are ignored.
Grandma rings a command.
How can children tell
grandma’s touch?
With what power
does she whip the clapper?
This bell, a magic bell,
from grandma’s heart to theirs,
a ringing bond of love.
The bell mounted on our wall
it’s work of calling wayward children
is over, except for the memories.
Adult children tear up
when they visit
and remember fondly
grandma’s call.
Silent now the bell vibrates
waiting for the next round of grandkids.
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