Under the Yellow Rose Sky
In the realm where yellow roses bloom,
And lupins stand tall in their regal hues,
There, in the heart of nature’s loom,
Resides a soul, as rare as morning dews.
Her laughter, a symphony, pure and true,
Echoes in the chambers of every heart she touches,
A matriarch, a beacon, in skies of endless blue,
With hands that crafted love, a legacy unclutched.
With three seeds sown, nurtured under her sun,
They blossomed, branches reaching wide,
Six grandchildren, like rays, spun
And five greats, stars in her night’s tide.
She, the artist of life’s intricate card,
Painting birthdays, anniversaries, with words so kind,
In every stroke, her love, a guard,
In every line, the warmth of her mind.
Compassionate warrior, with wit sharp as thorns,
Yet, in her eyes, a tenderness, unfurled,
Her blunt wisdom, in which honesty adorns,
A gem, in this ever-twisting world.
Her laughter, a melody, light and free,
Yet, a fuse, short, in her spirited flame,
in her, dance of complexity,
In every role, she’s never the same.
In the community she fostered, her roots run deep,
Respect and love, her invisible crown,
In every lesson, every leap,
In her presence, no one could drown.
From her, we learned the art of the feast,
The craft of creating, with hands and heart,
In every pie, every dish, a celebratory beast,
In her teachings, we all play a part.
Ninety years, under the sun and moon,
She walks, with yellow roses in her hands,
Amidst the hum of the hummingbird’s tune,
In a garden of memories, endlessly fair.
With honeysuckles’ sweet embrace,
And apple pies cooling in the breeze,
She finds solace in her tranquil place,
With a book, a puzzle, her mind at ease.
To her, our North Star, our guiding light,
We owe the colors of our dawn,
In her strength, her endless fight,
Our love for her, forever drawn.
In this tapestry of time, she’s our golden thread,
In her, our stories, our hopes, intertwine,
As she turns ninety, ahead,
We celebrate her, our eternal ray of light.
Drew Frederic