My Paternal Grandmother Poem by Marilyn Lott

She always seemed so very old
But then she had old-fashioned ways
Life was very hard for grandma
In her much younger days

Her mother died when she was young
She grew up with a brother and dad
Responsibilities came very soon for her
She always seemed serious and sad

She got married rather young, I think
Had five babies but one died
Pulling boiling water on top of him
Oh Lord, how grandma cried

My dad was the youngest of the four left
And when he was just a small lad
My grandfather just seem to walk away
Grandma’s life turned from difficult to bad

She picked fruit from the fruit trees
In Yakima, in the state of Washington
Dragging my daddy down the rows
No, her life certainly was not much fun

But she raised her kids all by herself
She taught them right from wrong
My tiny little grandma
Was really very strong

She died when she was eighty-two
I’ll remember so many things
For she loved me I always knew
Without a single string!