"Hello my little maid," she said
with that kind smile flashing,
and suddenly there she was,
entire, complete, my granny,
my lovely lovable granny,
whom I'd missed so much,
smiling still as she held that tiny babe-
my nephew Nicky,
and all the years had flown away,
and I could see the brave eyes shining,
eyes that had seen so much,
gentle hands that had lost so much,
and of course I knew
we were forty years on
and she was gone,
but o granny,
how lovely to see your portrait,
and know I could look into your eyes,
and see your kind smile,
and imagine your gentle hands
every day
and hear you say,
"Hello my little maid."
That is a lovely scene you paint Jenny. Where was your granny from that she used that delightful 'my little maid'? It reminds me a little too of my poem which begins with me saying hello each morning to Dad in his picture frame by my bed. Memories can be a realy comfort can't they.
ReplyDeleteMy Granny came from Gloucestershire, I do believe. Memories of her are precious, yes, but also painful because she had a very hard life indeed. But it made her kind rather than bitter and hard. She was a blessing to me and to all the babies in the family - one of the few among my ancestors who actually knew how to hold a baby!
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