Well, here she is, in arm with Ralph, her him:
our girl, new son, the license clutched; in tune.
All smiles, in stride, to hope (so young): abrim.
Our fam'ly, friends, appeared, to toast in June.
Flew in, drove down, sat by and drank champagne
to help us see our kids to wedded life:
to marriage, crucible of pain and glee
the place of truth, of strife, of test.
I say to Ralph, “Just live 'I love you, Dee.’”
Our girl, a woman, leaves: my nest
is empty but for me, my cat, my books.
(I love the space around this place, my nooks.)
Our children, comely, stay awhile, our keep:
They grow. They grow so beautiful we weep.
© Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.