For My Nana
03-14-1904 to 09-26-1969
The sun seemed to rise so slowly, on the morning that you passed away.
I thought all your storybook characters had gone as well.
I would learn later on that they had stayed.
Poor Peter Rabbit hugged his blue jacket tightly, as he mournfully shed rivers of tears.
And old Mr. Wolf sat by him self, knowing that the woods will never be the same.
The Leprechauns called for the fairies, as the Gnomes summoned the others near.
I heard wise old Mr. Hoot Owl, cry out from the tangled old pepper tree.
Understanding he was one of your very best friends so knowledgeable and true.
He hid there in the branches not wanting anyone to see.
Each and every one of your charming characters mourned your passing.
I still can remember countless stories each one told from your heart.
It was that magical ability that made them ever lasting.
Each story was better than the next; no child could ever tire of listening to them.
You created such wonder with those characters; you brought to life with every word.
It helped to know every family of frogs, which you chatted with often, as you walked along the Themes.
The strength and the conviction of your words allowed me to see,
Peter rabbit and all his friends whenever they came to call.
The leprechauns and the mischief they’d been up to became so real to me.
I and all the children sat mesmerized as we cherished every moment listening in your lap.
When I could get you started, the story that might well last the entire day.
Sometimes I would think it was ending then I’d hear Tom Turtles tap, tap, tap.
Yet morning was the best time, climbing into your big bed, with all the pillows.
Snuggling beside you, as you poured from your bedside tray, our morning cup of tea.
Off on a story that might start off sounding something like the Wind in the Willows.
Sometimes you’d read the tea leaves in the bottom of my china cup,
You always assured me that great adventures would happen in my life.
This allowed me to imagine; a handsome prince, a magical ball or my very own speckled pup.
And after all these years it still feels warm and special to think of you.
The scent of lavender conjures images of the wonderful days we shared.
They were so precious yet selfishly were too few.
The sun rose so slowly the morning that you passed away.
I cried sad, sad tears calling to Peter Rabbit and all your friends, knowing that they were missing you too.
One by one they appeared just inside my room, it was then I understood that you had let them stay.
07/70
Rewrite
09/2009
