Aunts

My aunt: How fortunate
The person who these words can state.

Dear ladies who remember turned-up noses,
The way you looked among the roses.

Who remember dimples and baby talk,
The way we toddled when we walked.

And Christmas’s bright memories
And bruised-up shins from climbing trees.

In summers, always hospitality
When new adventures enhance reality,
With cousins laughing in fields of hay
Or drying snowsuits on a winter day.

Trips to the city, the glittering stores,
But the warmth of the welcome meant even more.

And uncles’ jokes and fond concern,
Giving indulgence we didn’t earn.

Their stitches embroidered across my mind,
Where else in this world would I find
People who still keep on caring
With me too busy to do much sharing?
Even our children their caring share
As I, the daughter of someone dear.

Aunts’ and uncles’ love and good will,
The circle of love surrounds me still