A Poem by Grandmary

written on her passing


She'd call half dozen times a day

Just asking how I was

She rarely had a thing to say,

Just needed to hear a voice.


Her mind had been fading

She shared the same news twice

Or even three or four times

And offered her advice


And though her tales of family

Changed from day to day

And never seemed to be the same

As my own memories


Still I took for granted

She would be there on the phone

Rarely did I think about

the hours she spent alone


Now she's gone and I consider

All I could have said and done

The times those calls irritated me

And times our talks were fun.


I get up in the mornings now

Wondering what the day will bring

And missing her and listening

For the phone that will not ring.

© 2019 Grandmary

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Added on December 3, 2019
Last Updated on December 3, 2019



Greenleaf, KS