| Grandmother's Notepad |
|
Wonder how some things survive So long after their time? Some, we find, like treasure, And seek within the lines ... Clues of life so long ago, Artifacts of our lives; Words of wisdom written on The margin of the lines. Among my mother's albums, There lay a small lined pad; The kind with brown encasing ~ Like your great grandmother had. And, there, I found a picture Of daily life for her; The way her money came to hand, The debts she had incurred ... Notes of no significance To history or time. Except, it revealed insight Into a life of mine. Charted on some pages were The notes of music keys; The flats and sharps, the time And interpretations of these. There were recipes for colds, Sore throat, and a fever ~ The price paid for a cow and calf, The chicken's incubator. I saw the worry in the lines, When every penny counted. The years were sometimes one small page, With Christmas gifts ~ a quarter. Down through the years, some child Had drawn with pencil scribbled lines. And, on a trip, she jotted down, "A street car ride: one dime!" I was barely ten years old When Grandma went away. I'll read, again, those precious notes Of how she spent her days. |
| © 2003 by Joan Clifton Costner |
| Other poems by Joan Clifton Costner A large collection of poems, submitted by Joan Clifton Costner |
| The Poem Library Contents Page |