This poem is not a new one, but expresses something of who she was. I miss her, but she is happy now in the arms of Jesus!
In honor of Mother’s Day and my second one without her.
Your great-grandson is only four
but he’s heard the songs from the forties.
“Abba Dabba Honeymoon,”
“Me and My Shadow,”
“Playmate, Come Out And Play with Me,”
“Teddy Bear’s Picnic,”
songs you sang to Gayle and me
when she was three and I was four
Maybe someday he’ll get to meet Mrs. Doodenlopper.
She used to come take care of Gayle and me.
She looked like you.
We said, “You’re our mother!”
She always replied, “Oh no,
she’s at the store. She’ll be home soon.”
Then we would have tea and giggle
when Gayle was five and I was six
He’ll never get to see the doll furniture you made
for Gayle and me from orange crates
with a hammer, nails, and your butcher knife
when you were pregnant with Wayne.
It made a dandy kitchen with
empty thread spools for knobs.
We wore them out playing house
when Gayle was six and I was seven