Grandma's book of Valentines
Rekindles memory's flame,
Of days when she was just a girl
And life a happy game.
Each lace-edged card a getting bears
From friends of long ago,
Girls in gingham dresses
And that “special” Sunday beau.
It brings a twinkle to her eye,
Dissolving lines of age,
As we sit in the lamplight
And turn each well worn page.
It makes me kind of wonder
If perhaps some distant day,
A grandchild shall sit at my side
And leaf each page this way.
‘Cause I could sit for hours,
There at my grandma's knee,
And listen to the stories
That the Valentines set free.
A book of antique Valentines
That reaches black in time
To tell the tales of yesteryear
In illustrated rhyme.
Rekindles memory's flame,
Of days when she was just a girl
And life a happy game.
Each lace-edged card a getting bears
From friends of long ago,
Girls in gingham dresses
And that “special” Sunday beau.
It brings a twinkle to her eye,
Dissolving lines of age,
As we sit in the lamplight
And turn each well worn page.
It makes me kind of wonder
If perhaps some distant day,
A grandchild shall sit at my side
And leaf each page this way.
‘Cause I could sit for hours,
There at my grandma's knee,
And listen to the stories
That the Valentines set free.
A book of antique Valentines
That reaches black in time
To tell the tales of yesteryear
In illustrated rhyme.
~ Shirley Sallay
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