Tiffany Lamp

It was a measure of my growth,

a miniature Tiffany Lamp hanging

overhead from the end of the light

string in my grandmother’s kitchen.

At the beginning of every summer

visit I stood, right hand stretching

up as far as I could reach, no

tippy-toes allowed, while Gramma

said “You’re getting taller every year!

I’m sure you’ll reach it next year.”

And when that year finally arrived we

both cheered and clapped as my

unpracticed hand clutched and pulled

on the delicate plastic lamp, shining

a light on something more precious

than any Tiffany Lamp.

Naida Lavon

Jan. 4, 2022

Prompt from ShutUp&Write:

Write in the style of one of your favorite

authors.

I had Billy Collins' Poem "The Lanyard"

in mind when I wrote this