gentle lady, mother of nine,
widowed too young -
no time to grieve;
times were hard,
life had to go on.
in your golden years,
when you could take some ease,
you planted the whole front yard
of the house on clemson street
with flowers -
an outpost of eden.
you were already white-haired
and worn
when i came along.
i loved the way you poured your coffee
into the saucer for me -
laced with sugar and lots of cream.
you would pat my hand,
and say: come sit near granny
and i would snuggle up beside you,
my head, resting on your bosom.
i did not know then
what i know now -
how age and the cares of this world
catch up with us in the end.
how i wish i could roll back time
and join you in your garden
once again....
-stacy wills (4/21/9012)
