Edie

Born in January of thirty-four, Down Risseeuw Road, the stork did soar. Her childhood home still stands today, A witness to memories along the way. She’s passed that house a thousand times, Each visit brings nostalgia’s chimes A waft of scent, a sunset’s hue, A song that brings the past in view. In a heartbeat, she’s back once more, To laughter, tears, and days of yore. God’s timing marked by the birthdays here The fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth revere A lineage sprawling, hard to count Birthdays and Christmases, with many about. Stories aplenty, tales to unfurl, From decades spent within this world. Ninety years—what yarns she’s spun, Of times forgotten, and days begun. Family gatherings, joy and pain, Births and marriages, sunshine and rain. Farewells whispered, goodbyes said, And always the smell of homemade bread. She pauses now, takes a deep breath, Reflects on friendships, life, and the bereft. Some gone before, some still remain, Coffee companions meet each day And as these verses find their close, One promise stands, a faith she chose: Choose this day Whom you will serve With steady heart and steadfast Word. As for her house, they’ll serve the Lord