Aunty Myrtle

 

On the weekend, extended family gathered to celebrate the special lady who was ‘Aunty Myrt’. She was my great aunty. Great-great aunt to my children. She never married or had children of her own, but she loved generously throughout the generations – for 93 years. This poem tickled Aunty’s fancy when I wrote it for her 90th birthday. Come with me now, and we’ll visit, The Glen.

.

Over the singing bridge,AMyrt
round the tight bend,
across Humphrey crossing
the road starts to wend,
as it twists and it turns
climbing higher … and then
spreads out before us
a vista;

The Glen.

Down in the dairy
before break of day,
with tea, toast and cheese
on a small metal tray.

Red dirt and gumboots,
and pottering feet,
macadamia nuts
to collect, crack and eat.

Crochet and cooking,Jacobean Lily
and sponge cake – divine!
A bottle of sweet
guava jelly – sublime.

Dress-ups and dolls,
little nooks to delight…
Sing-songs and dominoes
into the night,

and then proverbs, and poetry
stories and prayers,
in Aunty’s big bed
at the top of the stairs.

 © Kathryn Apel 2012


.
Bless you, Aunty. You are in so many beautiful memories.

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5 comments

    • Thanks, Jill. I learnt – but I don’t think I progressed much further than the bookworm bookmark. (Which is appropriate, I guess.) When I visited in July, Aunty showed me the rug she was working on then. Amazing.

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  1. Pingback: One Minute Till… NOW! | Kathryn Apel


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