Lilacs and Love
"Nothing says spring like a lilac breeze,"
Mom closed her eyes, smiled, and sighed.
The scent would come drifting in,
with curtains billowing and windows wide.
My mother gathered them by the armful,
bunches of lilac blooms with a fragrance that was heaven sent.
She took them to my grandma every Mother's Day,
sharing her love, showing her gratitude,
knowing how much it meant.
She loved lilacs too, my mother did,
and she was glad we had plenty to spare.
It doubled her joy for them, I think,
knowing she was able to share.
Grandma would bury her nose in the lilacs,
and breathe in the heady scent too.
She arranged them carefully in a milk glass vase,
and there was one thing I always knew.
Grandma loved me, and my mom did too,
so fierce and wide and deep.
Remembering those lilacs they shared
is a memory I'll always keep.
Forever the sight of a lilac bush,
or the hint of its fragrance in the air,
will remind me of those two ladies before me,
who had lilacs and love to spare.
* * * * *
This poem is from the book, Old Broads Waxing Poetic, copyright © 2014 Julie Kemp Pick and Susan Flett Swiderski.
This poem is a repost. There are several new readers here who haven't seen this, so I am posting it, with apologies to those readers who have followed my blog for a while and remember it. I hope you don't mind a rerun.
Above is a photo from about 35 years ago of my mom on the left, my grandmother in the middle, and me on the right.
Happy Mother's Day to all!
