Lilacs

My dear, departed Grandma has been on my mind even more than usual these past few days. Yesterday marked the twentieth anniversary of her death, and despite the passing years, the sense of loss continues to be close to my heart.

A couple of weeks ago, I was leafing through the scrapbook of poetry clippings that she had compiled--a collection that spanned most of her adult life. My eye was caught by this poem--because of lilacs. Because the lilacs I tenderly coax into bloom each spring are in memory of the lilac bush that stood in the corner of her front lawn, where it blooms forever in my memory. Because lilacs speak to me of her.

Remembered Spring

As I arrange my lilacs in a vase today,
Their sweet scent of beauty sweeps the years away.
I hear my mother speaking in another spring...
"These lilacs are so lovely that they almost sing!"
Together we recited the bit we could recall:
"Come down to Kew in lilac-time"...we didn't know it all.
Gently to the purple plumes I sigh nostalgia's note
While memory of the one I loved catches at my throat.
--Shirley Guerci

I wonder what made her clip this poem from a magazine so long ago. I wonder who it was that she thought of, when she read this poem?