A poem for grandma - 1st Christmas without her

The Sweet Christmas Morning
Shouldn’t be forgot,
But this year for my family
Sadness brings a lot

The Sweet Christmas Morning
I rush out of bed,
Run straight down the stairs
But nothing can be said

The Sweet Christmas Morning
There’s silence all around
Not even our CD player
Plays the Christmas sound


The Sweet Christmas Morning
Will never be the same you see
But we’ll soothe our painful tears
With memories of my lovely Grandma
AVOZI.



Written By Lily Christmas 2007

Why I am in love with gardens: yesterday, today, tomorrow

photo by AML

Brunfelsia grandiflora also known as Yesterday -Today -Tomorrow, Origin: Brazil

The unusual popular name of this medium-sized shrub becomes clear to anyone who observes it over the course of two or three days. Its fragrant flowers change from purple to lavender and then to white over a three day period. First they open as rich lavender blue; then they change to pale lavender and finally to almost white before they fall. All three colors can be seen on the same plant.

My mother inspired and taught me to be a gardener. Growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, my mother created a beautiful garden. I was 6 years old and I can remember how excited she was about moving to our brand new dream home, Villa Noemia, and having a big garden. Unusual plants were ordered from outside the country and tended with great care. Yesterday, today, tomorrow was one such plant. We watched it grow and were so thrilled when the 1st blooms came out and we could appreciate the name. She loved showing the flowers to everyone. I still remember that experience everytime I see this plant. It has been a life long pleasure for me to watch my garden grow. Each bud that bursts into bloom is a blessing. This I learnt from my mother.

Extraordinary

My mother was an extraordinary
woman and I am very lucky to have
had such a wonderful, loving mother.
In my grief at her not being here, I have to remind myself how incredibly lucky I am that I always felt her arms around me and still do.

A poem for Noemia

The Sky Blue Robe

She stood in the doorway
Papa just behind her
A cool, bright morning
I am sad, she is so ill

In the taxi, I look out the window
What a beautiful smile
And she is blowing me kisses
Through my tears I smile and wave

She keeps waving and this
Is my last time to see her standing
A sky blue robe, her face aglow
Blowing warm kisses to me through the airwaves

The blue robe now warms me
At night I take it off as I go to bed
I see her in my dreams, in the sky blue robe
blowing me kisses from heaven’s gate

I sit here in the early morning
In the sky blue robe
Reflecting on her warm love


Copyright AM Levy

Noemia Nazareth 1928-2007

This is a blog all about a wonderful, wonderful mother. Mothers naturally love their children. My mother's love was active. I felt it and received it constantly, all through my life. Losing her 6 months ago was a heavy loss.