A woman talks about a very special relationship with her aunt. She treasures the times when she can sit and listen to her aunt's stories of life.
© Carolyn Wright
Her once shiny black hair is completely all white
And her tall frame is now smaller and ever so slight.
Her face shows the signs of her eighty-two years
It reflects all her happiness, her fears and her tears.
Even though her face has some lines and some wrinkles
Her eyes are bright and often they twinkle.
Her mind is still sharp; her memory still clear
I know that losing it now is her greatest fear.
So when I visit we often sit for long hours and chat.
I listen intently as I stroke Spunky her cat.
She talks of her childhood with her sister, my mother
And tells me her stories, one after another.
She talks about other sisters, Cecile and Ann
And her loving husband Horace, who was such a handsome man.
But I know that one day the stories will end.
And I'll be losing not only my Aunt but also my friend.
So I'll treasure the days that God let me be there
To hear all the stories she was so willing to share.
A Poem For Auntie >>
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