Frances Thelma

In this place where there is plenty of bay, it’s PAVED THE POETRY day. I’m  to be sentimental and post a poem I gathered for Nana Frances on behalf of her 10 grandchildren and 5 greatgrandchildren. A wee photologue will follow, this evening. Bless you Frances Thelma Whitehead.

When we think of you Nana Auckland
you who bloomed into Nanny like a rose
with your round face
big eyes that grew sad in these last years
without your Poppa Henry perhaps
those painted lips going over the edges a little bit
to where your youth lay.
Your Auckland University days, with your lovely music Professor Dr Hollandreiche
the dreams of going to med school
or becoming a diplomat.
The days where dreams and hopes were
a different flower bed to that of
being a wife and mother in the Hiwis, the Country full of Maori Kings.
You loved us all and we were very important to you in your own quiet way.
As you leave us we stay with
Sponge cakes with whipped cream, jam, and icing sugar dusting
and tonka trucks
the best roast potatoes in the world
ovaltine made with milk
ancient antique jewels
green 1950s vintage dresses we wear to
our bestfriend’s wedding
the memory of the twinkle in your eyes
when you liked something
your joy in showing us off, or our
charming young able boyfriends
to the cooing ladies in the remuera gardens’ lounge
the knowledge your were the only grandparent to meet
our children
and your strength of character and ability to survive anything.
So, you survived, you bloomed, you lived
92 years Nanny.
You leave us in Autumn as the colours burn golden, ruby and rust to fall beside Poppa in his Springtime budding colours and fragrance.
Perhaps you’re rowing your dingy out
with Poppa and your Dad
to catch some snapper
for tea in Stanmore Bay.
We love you Nanny. God bless.

Written by Emily Mowbray
May 2011

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