Grandmother

I stand on the patch of earth
that used to be your garden.
How surprised I am to find
myself staring down into
the smiling face of Heartsease;
in its beauty, I see you.
I slip down into the past
where my life had been simple,
running your errands without
complaint, just because you asked.
I taste again the spice
of your Sunday bread pudding
and even the castor oil
you bade me drink when I was ill.
In my imaginings
I can picture the cottage,
you framed in the low doorway;
even smell the candle wax,
see the flickering flame and
hear the sputtering sizzle
of the hot grease as it hit the
marble topped wash stand by the bed.
Above all your gentle voice
singing me to sleep at night.
I am a grandmother now;
I want to be loved as you were.
Will I be remembered
when my own grandchildren
are grandparents ? I wonder…
I catch a familiar sound
disturbing my reverie, no
just the echo of memory
your gentle voice calling to me