Her birthday cards
All lined up on the mantle like
Happy paper people, waiting to give praise.
She placed her flowers just below
On the fireplace bricks like
A bouquet garden,
nurtured for ripe admiring.
It’s an impromptu display, in gentle notions reading:
“I am loved!”
Next to Grandpa’s old chair,
Where part of Grandma’s heart sleeps
At night.
What a beautiful home
She has kept
And keeps.
Memorabilia of a better time
When pride came from the simple things.
With a warm heart and keen eye,
Every adornment
In its proper home placed,
And atop the fireplace mantle
Is where you’ll find
The birthday cards.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Her birthday cards
All lined up on the mantle like
Happy paper people, waiting to give praise.
She placed her flowers just below
On the fireplace bricks like
A bouquet garden,
nurtured for ripe admiring.
It’s an impromptu display, in gentle notions reading:
“I am loved!”
Next to Grandpa’s old chair,
Where part of Grandma’s heart sleeps
At night.
What a beautiful home
She has kept
And keeps.
Memorabilia of a better time
When pride came from the simple things.
With a warm heart and keen eye,
Every adornment
In its proper home placed,
And atop the fireplace mantle
Is where you’ll find
The birthday cards.
My Grandmother's birthday is the 4th of May and falls just before Mother's Day each year. She recently suffered a heart attack, but, like the strong, courageous woman she is, it's hard to even tell she was ill at all. We spent the weekend at her home to celebrate Mother's Day and her birthday, and this poem is for her.
I love you, Grandma.
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