A Letter from my Grandma

While searching in my closet,

I found a nice surprise –

A box of bags, with some crocheted

In ways I’d recognize.

 

I opened one and there inside,

A letter in the hand

Of Grandma, she who made the bags,

Each stitch at her command.

 

She wrote that she was sending,

In addition to her work,

A dollar for “the baby,”

As an extra little perk.

 

I should put it in the bank, she said,

And more would follow, so

Someday I could buy a gift from her;

The baby then would know.

 

That “baby” now is 43;

My Grandma’s dead and gone,

But the love she sent across the miles,

In stitch or note, lives on.