I have a much easier time remembering my Papa than Momma! So in an effort to preserve what I do remember, I worte this poem. I don't know if it will make sense to anyone but me, but here it is. I am not into editing poems because I write them for me more than to please other people, so don't look for rhymes and count syllables! :)
Spring to my eyes in vibrant pink of japonica
Stroke green slashes in fields topped with yellow jonquils
Sprinkle violets in the green beneath my feet
Lead me to the hyacinths for my soul
Gather bits of nature’s wildest weeds
Vase them into graceful memories
Sing to me just like the whippoorwill
Let me hear your Irish lullaby
Throw your arms up in branches of the Dogwood tree
Busting forth in blooms of white pure joy
Fill me with your sweet scents of lavender
Fling seeds within the wind to little wrens
Hide nuts beneath the leaves for squirrels to hunt
Flit through my day arrayed in cardinal red
Let me not forget the Rose.
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This totally reminded me of feeding the birds outside with her. And did she really hide nuts for the squirrels? Its like I remember that but don't know if it is just the suggestion or I remember it. I love the poem momma. I may not know what you are referring to on all the lines but it brought so many images of her.
ReplyDeleteActually, she and Pappa would hand the squirrels the nuts through the sliding glass door which they opened just a bit. I guess I took a bit of poetic license there. You may not remember, but the flying squirrel got inside her robe and she did quite a dance for Pappa until they figured out what was dashing around inside. I think they quit keeping the corn in their closet after that!
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