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.