Talking Hands

Jean Hibberd

I can see a crystal ball
Hanging on the tree.
I stand before it and admire

A clear reflection of me.
It is so pretty, yet I know
That after Christmas it will go
To where the other baubles sleep
Up in the attic at Coopers Keep.

Coopers Keep is my Grandma’s house
Where Grandpa calls me his little mouse.
For I am deaf, and he understands
That I must talk to him with my hands.
I love to go to Grandma’s house

And be my Grandpa’s little mouse.
Of cause it is his house as well.
One day in the attic I found a bell
Later when they sat with me
Grandpa told me about the sea.
Not in words you understand
But how I taught him, on his hand.

He drew me pictures on some paper
And in my bed quite some time later
I lay awake and I could see
Those pictures he had drawn for me.

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