GOOD NIGHT GRAN
A poem by the late Eileen Earls Breen
March 27, 1916- May 5, 2006
"We'll lock the door now child," Grandmother said,
"And in God's Holy name, we'll go on up to bed.
The hens are all fastened, the ass house as well
And Eric has brought us water from the well.
The parlour door's locked, the windows are shut tight
Now you take the clock, love, and I'll take the light."
As we ascended each night to our bed
her bent over frame rested on each step
and she'd mutter,
"I hope Eric remembers to bring some bread"
Then snug in my bed, I'd watch her kneel at her altar
and nod her silver head
in deep conversation with the Lord
Then she got the turkey feather
and sprinkled me with holy water
her lips moving in silent prayer
for me, her granddaughter.
Oh Gran, how I wish you were still with us here.