Gramma's Button Tin
My Gramma as I called her, probably seemed no different than most,
But to me she was the very best, sorry - I really have to boast.
She had grey hair, was fairly stout and always wore a dress,
A waft of lavender to this day, makes me smile, I must confess.
She was a proud woman who stood only 5 feet 3 inches tall,
Her lap was my favourite place to be, when I was very small.
Gramma died after having only 19 birthdays, she was 80 years old,
Her birthday was on leap year and 1900 never had one, so I’m told.
I was so lucky my Gramma lived in our small Ontario town,
I spent lots of time with her, sleeping on her bed of down.
When it was time for me to nap, she’d rock me in her chair,
Quietly humming in my ear and rubbing my long brown hair.
For fun I’d use her old iron, pressing all her dusting rags,
Never told me it would not get hot, it was on its last legs,
She’d thank me for my help and compliment me on my skill,
Then we’d move on to watering plants sitting on the windowsill.
She used to make beautiful pottery and she’d let me mold the clay,
Oh, my favourite times with Gramma, were when we’d sit and play
She had this magnificent button tin, which may sound boring to some,
But we’d sit and study each button dreaming where each one came from.
Some were from fancy dresses while others had adorned shoes,
I would listen so contently, my concentration I would never lose.
She’d talk of far away places, telling me how others had to live,
And why compassion was important, she said I had so much to give.
No other person in my life has influenced me as much as she did,
She taught how to be kind and good, beginning when I was a kid.
Although I really should not say this, but I just cannot tell a lie,
She spoiled me with love so great, I was the apple of her eye.
For Memories of Grandma Contest
Sponsor Carol Brown
*Placed First*
Written July 29, 2011
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