Its little wooden handle was study but worn,
Its little tingling sound was forlorn.
Grandmother said this bell went through the Great War,
When was that I asked---I was not born---it was before.
Her bell so shiny and old---set on her table by her bed,
You may ring it my child---My Grandmother said.
She told me her Great-Grandmother Krimminger rang it
When her son came home from the fray,
Oh what a glorious happy day.
That little bell was a beacon for me,
When in her room I walked up to it to see,
The tiny little bell that I rung so well,
then quietly set it alone to be.
I leaned close to the bell to see my big eyes in it,
I stuck out my tongue to see its image.
Suddenly outside I heard a scrimmage,
Grandmother My Angel
Grandmother was feeding the Squirrels nuts and bread,
I helped her feed the birds so now all was fed.
My vacation was almost over and I loved the time
with my grandmother,
My heart belonged to her---there was no other.
I kissed her cheek as she squeezed my hand,
Daddy picked me up---he was a strong man.
I was six when I last saw her that summer day,
The strong Southern breeze swung the Spanish
Moss into disarray,
I watched out the back window as Daddy drove away.
Summers in South Carolina proved never the same,
Because grandmother went to Heaven; but I still hear
her call my name.
Tilly the Bag Lady: Click Link Below to Read the Poem---Thanks.
Do You Really Love Him? : Click the Link below for More Poems
© BEPH 2014 All Rights Reserved
PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of this poem and if it is seen anywhere else on
the Internet or in print it was taken without my consent.