The meadow looked green and lush
the memory of old feet
Passing this way
Sometimes hurried, sometimes slow
making soft imprints
On the memory of time.
The rocking chair
Rocked back and forth
The memory of gentle hands
With needle work in hands
Sometimes hurried, sometimes slow
Making soft imprints
On the hard floor below.
The tender warm hug
In time of pain and sadness
The memory of everloving bosom
With white lace all around
Sometimes hurried, sometimes slow
Making soft imprints
On the life of a child.
The dark black casket
Covered with Jasmine and Roses
The memory of that serene face
Peace all around
Sometimes hurried, sometimes slow
Making soft imprints
On this beautiful world.
Dedicated to my maternal grandmother
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