Memories of Her
As I rise from this comfortable feather bed,
I peer out a window and shake my head.
Relinquishing the grip of last night’s sleep,
rubbing my eyes to the kitchen I creep.
I see the old kettle that she used to make tea,
we would go drink it under the old willow tree.
We use to laugh and play and swim in the lake
and, I remember the summer she taught me to bake.
Always loving comforting and warm to my soul,
I remember she loved to fish in her pond by the knoll.
I close my eyes and I start to tear.
I can feel her presence and her voice I still hear.
My mother always told me to stop being a tomboy and act like a lady.
She would whisper to me, “I know best and you’re perfect Katy.”
Not long ago I noticed she slowed way down.
I was sad and she noticed me and, my frown.
Be of good cheer she scolded me,
I’m going home and, with god, I will be.
She passed from this world with a smiling face.
I whispered to her, “I’ll see you again Grandmother in that better place.”
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