Grandmothers All
My vibrant sunflowers, once so spry
Have bent down a bit
Heaving a small sigh.
Arms now rest at their hips,
Heads no longer held high.
As they gather their skirts
With a knowing shrug
And tighten their bonnets,
In a sly little tug.....
Oh, they still love their quilting bees,
A Butterfly Ballet,
And fat golden finches,
Those hungry dine-ees.....
.Ahh, grandma sunflowers,
Now surely they be
Growing old so graciously.....
They're still beautiful to me.
BB'10
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