Goldie,
perfect things come in small packages:
gold rings and goldfinches,
sun-soaked raindrops,
marigolds, goldenrods,
memories golden-hued,
and you, dear Goldie, too.
You shared with us such time-worn treasures:
the swimming hole,
orchids blooming ferociously in Hawaiian humidity,
children lost and children gained – your bittersweet legacy,
misplaced brassieres in laundromats,
atrocious climates and thermostats,
and speaking of weather – Stormy Daniels too.
Your sense of humor shone right through –
remarkable.
For life can be an ordeal, you know it well I’m sure
and golden youthful moments too soon become silver
With each winter’s passing cold,
frost-heaving each and every life,
cracks spread across our pavement for
against the inevitable, we can’t fight
and giggling rivers grow slow and stale
and evening skies sicken and pale
But despite the cold winds, you – dear Goldie –
Remain golden still.
In my creative writing class, we interviewed residents of old-folks home. This poem is dedicated to Goldie W - a lovely 94 year old who absolutely captivated my heart with her stories, sense of humour, and attitude on life.
