This poem was written for my beautiful grandmother Frances Lucille Fuller right after she passed away. Words can not express how much I miss her and how much I loved her. I strive to be more like her all the time. She was SO unselfish and gosh that is so rare to find these days.
Just a rose from Birmingham,
Met a handsome country man,
At the Birmingham Paper Company,
And the rest is history.
A rose so beautiful and a man so rare,
Gave life to six children,
With the love that they shared,
Losing one early in life,
They cried,
But as their strength endured,
The other five thrived.
The rose so pink,
She bloomed,
As life brought her grandkids and
holiday gatherings with less and less room.
Laughter and love filled their home,
Imagine the impact they made in our lives for so long.
Amazingly this rose had no thorns,
So classy,
But yet so plainly worn.
Her smile was timeless,
Her hugs so warm.
This delicate rose smelled of coffee,
Not bitter, but sweet,
And she always made sure you had something to eat.
Watching the birds that just flocked to her yard,
As well as the flowers she grew,
Her gardening skills were well above par.
When the rose lost her country man,
She cried,
Wondering how this moment came,
after all of the years that had gone by.
Nothing was every quite the same after that,
But her family gave life and watered her with love,
Exactly where she sat.
The day God picked this rose,
I will never forget.
It felt like watching the morning sun set.
Amazingly beautiful but dark so fast,
With family she loved when her breath decided its last.
With comfort I know she is with me still,
Her laugh in my mind and her love that I feel.
Not having her here just doesn't seem real,
The sweet,
The lovely rose named Lucille.
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