by Carmen Henesy

Created on: February 07, 2010

Memories of the Past

We buried her last week,

Our beloved matriarch,

At a hundred years of age,

She surely left her mark.

Her face so creased in wrinkles,

Always held a smile,

Even as she lay there dying,

She asked me to sit awhile.

I remembered as a little girl,

We’d play at having tea,

One day she had a box in hand,

With a special gift for me.

A sterling creamer lay inside,

She’d packed it long ago,

When Grandpa died in battle,

For he had loved it so.

She wanted me to have it,

I’ve cherished it all the while,

Every time I fill it up,

I see dear Grandma’s smile.

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