Rummaging

I have three large boxes in my huge attic which houses a lot of memories. One has everything to do with my son in it, one for my daughter, and one for me! I was rummaging around in them today having the occasional tear at all the lovely mementos I have collected over the years. I came across a couple of poems. One I had written when my first grandchild was born, and another that I had framed and on the wall of the retirement home that we owned. I thought I would share them with you:0)

My new grandaughters name was Emily who is now 17 years old, and this was written to her parents:

When you wake up this morning,
A new feeling will be there,
Of unbelievable happiness
The two of you will share.

That tiny little bundle,
So warm and soft and new,
Is not anothers baby now
This one belongs to you!

She's totally dependant,
On your gentleness and love,
This little miracle of life
From someone up above.

You'll proudly watch her gathering strength,
Her crawling - that first tooth,
Her faltering words and footsteps,
Her schooling and her youth.

And as she slowly blossoms,
And starts venturing from home,
You'll realise that your daughter
Has a lifestyle of her own.

Her need for you will lessen,
As she finds friends of her own,
And finally settles down with one,
Who will always share her home.

You'll feel a little strange at first,
Somewhat like a 'spare',
But suddenly life is full of joy,
Your grandchild will be there!

Again you'll share the feeling,
Of this first day again,
As you hold the tiny baby,
Emotions are the same.

But this time the lovely feeling,
Will be yours to share around,
With three other happy grandfolk,
In who this joy abounds.

The time will pass so quickly,
You must savour every day,
Of this lovely tiny new born babe,
To whom you both gave life today.

* * *

Now at the other end of life, a poem that speaks volumes. This was found in the locker of an old lady in a geriatric hospital by the nurses clearing it out after she had died:

SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT

What do you see nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking, when you look at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes;
who dribbles her food and makes no reply
when you say in a loud voice 'I do wish you'd try'.
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
and forever is losing a stocking or shoe;
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will
with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.

Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you're not looking at me!
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming of soon now a lover she'll meet.

At twenty five now I have young of my own,
who need me to build a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast
bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty my young now will soon be gone,
but my man stands beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty once more babies play round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,
I look to the future, I shudder with dread;
For my young are all busy, rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love I have known.

I'm an old woman now, and nature is cruel,
'tis her jest to make old age look a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
and now there's a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcase, a young girl still dwells,
and now and again, my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years all too few gone too fast,
And accept the cold facts that nothing can last,
So open your eyes nurses, open and see,
not a crabby old woman, look closer - SEE ME!