She speaks of gifts by O.P.W. Fredericks

She speaks of gifts
for Patricia Wallace Jones

There’s sparkle in her eye, still
a glint of yesterday, the memories
she keeps in faith, to share
while on the brae,
like emery’s abrasive touch
life’s not a grand bouquet.

When on she hints from time to time,
in rhyme or verse, a line
or two, hold fast youth’s prime
and spring’s first wine
for with years comes more brine
than brew.

Ne’er at a loss to speak her mind
she tends our dreams and souls in kind
and shares her wisdom
gained in spite of bitter ills
she’s faced in plight.

The weight her words of life
betray the spark behind her eyes
convey and so we ponder on
in time her rhyme, her verse, yes, line
by line, her voice
like bells, so soothing,
the meaning hidden deep within
and wonder
at her smoothing.

by O.P.W. Fredericks

Editor’s Note: After yesterday’s poem, this poem falls easy on the ear and mind. (Can a poem be an ode to another? I say yes.)

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