The Fairy Tale Book

The copyright is ’58;
I’ve owned it ever since.
Its stories, 28 in all,
My childhood do evince.

I likely read it to myself;
My memory has faded
But all the wonder of those tales
My reading life pervaded.

Unlike the whitewashed versions
Of most fairy tales today,
The stories feature cruelty
And malice on display.

Yet recently I found this book
And dusted off its spine
To share each afternoon with
Much-missed grandchildren of mine.

They listen quite intently;
FaceTime lets them see the art
And we bridge the distance which unjustly
Keeps us miles apart.

Full circle now, my book of tales
Still holds its magic power,
Enchanting those who listen during
Nana’s story hour.