A little poem for my Gramma....

As I've been working on a nonfiction book I've named for her, my much-missed grandmother has been on my mind quite a bit lately. While taking a break from writing and editing, I made a mug of tea (how apropos) and read some poetry from a new treasure picked up from my library's semi-annual book sale. Here, Autumn Leaves by Janie Screven Heyward found in The Home Book of Modern Verse:


                                                     Autumn Leaves


                                       The dear old ladies whose cheeks are pink
                                        In spite of the years of Winter's chill,
                                         Are like the Autumn leaves, I think,
                                          A little crumpled, but lovely still.



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