I miss my granny, RIP.

A Blossom Pressed in a Book
Ode to my grandmother

It was only yesterday
we were around the table
eating ripe, perfect peach
& tomato & raspberries.

& after dinner
we sang old songs
while we washed dishes,
with nimble fingers
keeping time.

Marigolds were blooming in your garden.

Our legs were strong
as we watched the deer
by the crabapple tree
in the light of the moon.

1 comment:

From AA to NZ said...

Moi aussi.
Some sad days at the end of January.
Love your poem - and you.