Grandmother Poem

A granddaughter pays tribute to her grandma by talking about her special qualities.

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This poem means a lot because when I was just 11 years old my grandmother (also named Gwen) died. She was my best friend and now that I am going on 19 years old I still miss her dearly. She...

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Gwendolyn

©

Published: February 2006

Through all the good times we had
She never said I was bad
I will always remember her style
And best I will never forget her smile

Gwen was my Grama
She was nothing more
She was my whole world,
I wish I could have followed her
Through that sacred door

When she was sick
I stayed by her side
I couldn't begin to show her love,
Even with my arms open wide

I waited with her and cried
But I wasn't there
That night she died

I was having fun
That's what she wanted
Her time was done.

Grama is watching over me
She will always be in my mind
I know I can't wait to see her again
She WILL know when it is time

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • by Kristina Doub
  • 9 years ago

This poem means a lot because when I was just 11 years old my grandmother (also named Gwen) died. She was my best friend and now that I am going on 19 years old I still miss her dearly. She has taught me just about everything I know about life!

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