POEM_IRISH LACE

about:
grandmothers

TEARS IN A BOTTLE COLLECTION
Caryl Ramsdale, American Poet

When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lo’-is, and the mother Eu’-ni-ce; and I am persuaded that in thee also. II TIMOTHY 1:5 KJV

IRISH LACE
to Veronica (Roni) Cecelia Schaaf Casey
05/30/1884-03/25/1969

An old, black sewing machine
Perched on a cold, wrought iron frame;
It's hard, two-footed pedal
Rocked once as I touched its brand name.
A crocheted shawl and afghan
Draped over a big davenport;
With handmade, satin pillows
Tucked in deep corners for support.
Pickled watermelon rinds,
Tea towels that dried canning jars;
Lunch for two, a window view
Where I wished on robins and stars.
A cross-stitched, gingham apron
Was unfinished and table tossed;
Resting near a book of poems
Someone wrote for the saved and lost.
I found an antique hope chest
In the stuffy, attic crawl space;
Filled with token memories,
Rosaries, gold rings, Irish lace.

© Copyright 1999-2007 Caryl Ramsdale. All rights reserved.