From deep recesses of my mind
I bring a great-great-grandma's face.
She left no photograph behind.
I dream her dressed in bits of lace,
Tatted perhaps by her own hand;
A talent she didn't leave to me.
She labored and loved and lived and left
No memories for her progeny.
I've traced her name, all I can do
To give her substance, make her real;
A living being who could cry,
Could laugh and all emotions feel.
There was a time I could have asked
Her granddaughter of what she knew.
That chance is now forever lost.
No one is left to give a clue.
Dear Grandma, I lend you my pen;
Please tell about the life you led.
Be free to speak your mind through me
And say the things you would have said.
A wealth of stories left untold
And lessons from which I could have learned.
Dear Mollie Blosser I'd then record
The place in history you have earned.
By: Joyce 3/22/06