How I loved my grandma’s dresser,
Dressed in roses, lace and more.
I remember the old lantern,
Casting shadows ‘cross the floor.
Strings of pearls, a silver bracelet,
Costume jewelry, to name a few.
Of the beauties on her dresser
Even though a child I knew…
Grandma was a Southern Lady,
She was known by her genteel ways,
And I always loved to hear her,
As in her room, she softly prayed.
Grandma’s dresser held some secrets,
Only I was allowed to see,
Letters tucked in a hidden drawer,
Grandpa wrote from overseas.
Love grew stronger as she waited,
Longing for his face to see.
Then the day… all wives dreaded,
A soldier’s knocking tenderly.
Grandma’s weeping drew me closer,
How I longed for words to say.
Yet it was with understanding,
I slipped cautiously away to pray.
I still love my Grandma’s dresser,
Folded neatly… placed within,
Is the flag that she was given,
When the family buried him.
Now the pearls, lace and roses,
Sit upon the dresser yet.
And I gaze upon the letters,
Love’s reminders… lest I forget.
© 2005 Marie Williams