Grandma

My grandmother, Beatrice Smith, the subject of this poem, was born on March 5, and every year about this time, as I think about her and miss her, I usually write some verse in her honor.  Perhaps there is someone you miss also, and perhaps these lines will bring a smile to your face or a warm feeling to your heart as you think about whoever it is… if so, I am sure my grandma would have been glad.  Tim

The oak trees used to be much taller,
My childhood home was much larger, too;
The cares of life seemed so much smaller,
How I miss those old times, friend, don’t you?
Recalling those old times brings pleasure,
Just thinking of loved ones now long gone;
It would bring me joy beyond measure
To go back home ere my life is done.
How I’d like once more to romp and play,
I’d like to feel grandma’s sweet embrace;
It’d mean so much more than I can say
If I could look once more on her face.
To hear her laugh, and see her sweet smile,
Let me know that ev’rything was well;
But she’s been gone for such a long while,
Oh, when she left how our spirits fell.
No more can we her lovely voice hear,
Or stop for lunch and have a visit;
It felt so good when she drew us near,
Oh, Grandma’s house, how much we miss it.
Yes, life goes on, and I must go too,
No matter how much I miss the past;
The mem’ries I have to see me through,
And I know that the mem’ries will last.
This world is poorer now without her,
Her lovely smile and her silver hair;
It does us good to think about her,
In this old world filled with strife and care.
A precious mem’ry through the ages
Of innocence in the days gone by,
I like to turn back to the pages
Of my life ere Grandma had to die.
The oak trees used to be much taller,
My childhood home was much larger, too;
The cares of life seemed so much smaller,
How I miss those old times, friend, don’t you?

……….H. L. Gradowith……….

02-28-2002

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