A beautiful thing about a woman’s body Is that her children are born with her A beautiful thing about a mother’s mother Is that she gives birth to her grandchildren too Is that why you loved me doubly? Extra gentleness, extra generosity Extra patience in frustration Extra butter on the plate Extra cream on the crumble You have known me for so long You waited for me and asked for me And I arrived as your own mother faded Your hopes were always for my happiness For my joy, for my serenity For my depth of living, for my vibrancy For my experience, for my creation For sunshine, rainbows and flowers For puddle splashing forever When I feel I am not doing enough, earning enough, successful enough, being enough, I remember you stroking my forehead at bedtime Renting the same VHS 10 times Cooking golden potatoes on Sundays Holding my hand Me holding yours The way you tell me you love me No ‘but’, no ‘because’ Just love. ___________ Id love feedback on structure in particular, and I guess also how it made you feel. As you may have worked out, this poem is about my grandmother who passed away a few years ago. It has little structure, it’s kind of all over the place. I’ll need to go back to update to make it work but I think that’s what grief does to you.