Monday, June 24, 2013

Grandma

Wrinkled with the early morn
Greyed with toils qui'tly born
Soft hands patch each jacket torn
Bright eyes that twinkle and warn;

to smile softly,
to laugh loudly,
always forgive,
never forget
those that moved on
Before.

2 comments:

  1. It's been way, way, WAY to long, but oh well. :P

    ReplyDelete
  2. These new poems show your growing maturity of outlook.
    I, too, look to my progenitors to learn something about me.
    I hope you will always find time for an occasional poem. Writing them carries us a step deeper into our own creativity.

    ReplyDelete