While cleaning up an old Almirah,
My hands sensed something rough;
Peered in, took it out,
it was an envelope.
Buff in colour, dog-eared,
It looked quite worn out;
Opened it carefully lest it tore,
But the paper was quite stout.
Inside was a letter,
written by you, Grandmother;
Your beautiful cursive writing
Unlike any other!
It was addressed to my father,
telling him to take care;
Study well, eat proper food,
all the regular motherly fare!
It was written thirty years ago,
I wish I’d found it earlier;
We would’ve read it out to Father,
Making him all the more surlier!
But you’re here no more, Grandma,
You’re somewhere up in the sky;
But I’m glad to have found a new memory
to remember you by.
I’ll put this letter in a glass frame
and buff it till it gleams,
And I’ll make sure father reads it,
whenever upset he seems!
-Ginger tea fanatic