Grandma

 ~ ~ 

Her hands, soil maps... stained green fingers

Scratched by thorns... washed in Swarfega 

Baking pastries or crocheting 

Always listened to music whilst cooking 

Busy hands... that never were still 

So lovingly, our plates she'd fill 

Foraging for her jams and pies 

Her button tin and peddled Singer sighs 

Her Bantams taught me life and death 

She ran like wind... ne’er out of breath

Stole sugar lumps from pantry’s side 

Her steamed-up glasses... jam-butty wide smiles 

Patterned bedspread, sewed sequined dress 

Taped our voices... no age she missed

Shared her love... black and white movies 

Proudly polished all my medals... trophies 

Played her organ, solely by ear 

Sang like an angel., without fear 

Gentle, but strong... she dried our tears 

I miss her more now with each passing year 

As she was family’s matriarch 

Didn’t suffer fools... patriarchs! 

Her little chats have stayed with me 

Passed on love of nature... that's set me free 

I see now... she planted me too 

Nurtured, encouraged... helped me bloom 

She was wise, fun, kind and clever 

Grandma... hero then, now and forever 

© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey

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