Friday, December 26, 2008

Holding Hands

The Last Time I Held Hands

A walk through Gumbo Limbo butterfly garden
filled with flowers, butterflies, he came up to me
slid his hand in mine, said Grandma come see
I thrilled to the sound of Grandma, his voice
his excitement, his small hand in mine

A walk on the beach where all three got wet
along the lake with the dogs, one of them
then another, would place their hand
gently in mine, look up at me and smile
taken by surprise my heart danced

3 comments:

Mary said...

Beautiful poem, Diane! So touching.

Victoria said...

What a sweet Grandma memory - grandkids and nature - can't top that. I love the pictures too.

Judy said...

What gorgeous grandchildren, Diane. It sounds like a perfect time for you and for them. Wonderfully warm poem.