The Watcher

The Watcher

by Margaret Widdemer

She always leaned to watch for us
Anxious if we were late,
In winter by the window,
In summer by the gate.
And though we mocked her tenderly
Who had such foolish care,
  The long way home would seem more safe,
Because she waited there.
Her thoughts were all so full of us,
She never could forget,
And so I think that where she is
She must be watching yet.
Waiting ‘til we come home to her
Anxious if we are late
Watching from Heaven’s window
Leaning from Heaven’s gate.

This is a picture of my Grandma Greer

Nothing describes her better than this poem.

Her birthday is next week.

I miss her so much.

I love you Grandma!

I can't wait to meet you at Heaven's Gate!