My Memma is special to me
Memma was the first word I said, you see;
She is the best cook in the world
and she can tell stories that will make your hair curl.
She goes to church on Sunday
picking a few flowers along the way.
Dinner is ready before she leaves
because, you know, she has the whole family to feed.
She does things not because she must
Lord knows she is always making a fuss;
but because of her, I have a suspicion
that is why Sunday dinner is a family tradition.
She works in the garden in the early morning sun;
she’s out there with her bonnet undone.
She’s growing vegetables and flowers and pulling up weeds;
she’s got that big old family to feed.
My dear, my precious, my lovely Memma,
I love you who stands so great and tall.
I know that the years are taking their toll.
I don’t want you to grow old for you are forever a part of my soul.
If I had one wish it would be
that time would cease to be
and we would stay together
in this old world throughout eternity!
Memma was still alive and well when this poem was written. As you can tell by my blogs, she was near and dear to my heart.