Grandma Joslin

By Lena Carroll

{Previously published in Hobbies, Etc., parent publication of Pencil Stubs Online.)

A wonderful person, I recall

            She sat in the corner by the southwest wall.

Her hair was ever so smoothly combed,

            But, her eyes were twinkling towards one and all.

Her lips were pursed--for with a love of mischief,

            Our Grandmother Joslin was cursed.

She would sing or whistle, or a lively story tell,

            And her jokes at the table, always rang a bell.

She had lots to weep o’er,

            For ‘twas her sad plight to sit in a wheel chair.

All the days of her life

            When Mother was tired and we children were cross,

Grandma never let this throw her for a loss!

            She’d say, “Carrie, go rest a bit.”

Then with a song or chuckle,

            She’d make a party of it!

And if we children began our sad, hard lot to rant,

            She’d talk about the beggar whose name was “I can’t”

And now, when I feel weary and almost like a squalling,

            I always think of Grandma,

In her chair, coming a-rolling.

            She’d say, “Honey, just go rest a bit,

And with some song or a story.

            You can  make a party of it.”

©circa 1948   Lena May Carroll