- My Grandmother
[Spiritual, Physical, Intellectual, Creativity, Emotion
Her spice box sits upon my shelf
six wooden drawers each named
nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, cloves
cinnamon sticks and caraway.
I see her tall, with upswept hair
stately Edwardian dress
I have her nose, her chin, her smile
her beaded piano stool.
her place mats, tightly crocheted, white
such patient, wasted hours
her First Class honours tucked away
behind domestic days.
knitted socks, a red and navy jumper
creations for her young grandchild
she died when I was six.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Maggie
McLean would be pleased to hear them.