Thursday, May 15, 2008

Secrets Talking With Flowers

My Grandma Johnson taught me wonderful lessons and traditions. She loved to write poetry. Grandma would make me handmade books of poems with cut out pictures. I can still feel the love, time & intention she put into these books when I pick them up to re-read them once again. She sent me many cards and letters, they always seemed to arrive just at the right time & and she always knew exactly what to say. Grandma had wonderful healing medicine. There is something about having hand written letters and poems, people don't handwrite letters much anymore. The internet, text messaging and phones in this busy life have shifted priorities. I feel blessed to still have these letters and poems. I just ran across this one today as my Mom and I were cleaning out one of our dusty old bins from storage. Grandma wrote this poem in 1980.


When I was young and my brothers worked
I played alone, you see
And often times pretended that,
The flowers could talk with me

The daisies with their faces bright
As yellow as the sun,
Always kept their secrets
and would never tell a one.

The violets would shyly whisper
My lover would be true blue,
Then hide their little faces
In leaves all wet with dew.

The roses were as bold as brass
Their heads a flaming red;
And many a secret we exchanged
Before it was time for bed.

But if I wrote them here, for all to see
A secret no longer they would be;
So its much more fun to keep them hidden
and locked away
In the golden memories of yesterday-

Copy write Sally Leslie Johnson 1980

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