They come from
A time of adventure
And self discovery.
Bearing photos
On one side
And snippets of memories
On the other,
They're postmarked
From all across
The country
With dates that extend
Over an 18-month period
Of my life.
I sent them to you
Describing an experience,
Or my day,
Or my surroundings,
And you kept them,
Never realizing the gift
You would return to me,
For when you died
They came back to me,
A microcosm of life
Seen first as its author
Then later
As its recipient,
The circle made complete,
Granddaughter to grandmother
Then back to granddaughter,
And nothing you left me
Could ever
Have brought you
Closer.
budd
Ron