My story is not one that all will relate too, but some will. I never knew or got to meet my maternal grandmother or grandfather. My grandfather died when my mother was 16 and my grandmother died when I turned one. Like every family sitting around the dinner table, stories of the past are bought up and thus beginning a two hour long trip down memory lane.

My sister and brother who are ten and nine years older than me remember being babysat by grandma, but I don’t have these memories which is why I cherish hearing stories surrounding my grandmother because I can feel a connection to her. I’ve been told I have the same walk as her and in my family we call it the “Daisy Bop” or how we have the same cupid bow lips. But until recently our connection is more that physical characteristics; it’s our love of writing and poetry. I started writing articles in tenth grade for the school newspaper, but it wasn’t till senior year that I started writing poetry.

I received a bag full of hundreds of poems, some typed and some handwritten. As I read Daisy’s poems I think about how eloquent of a writer she is. Her words come together so well it makes me want to write poetry in a way that she was here with me. As I see each page of poetry on carbon paper, I read that she was a published poet. One poem “He is There” published 9/90 to The American Poetry Association, or eight poems in the National Library of Poets in 1992, and lastly poetry at the International Society of Poets.

I write poetry as a way to express myself or how I feel articulately on paper. I feel like my grandma did the same. She writes about her children, her connection to god, her husband or everyday situations like the sunset which from her house on the hill is so beautiful.

They Serve
Though the day be gray and somewhat dis
They go around just like the wind
Ever evolving – Ready to win
Always dispensing – ready to win

Willing to cope with whatever they find
Amid sounds of those beepers never ceasing to whine
And patients complaining without a just cause
To test their endurance and play with their minds

Yet haltingly onward they adhere to their call
With resolute force and peaked adrenaline
Smiling though weary from their head to their toes
Those ladies of stamina
God bless them all

This is my favorite poem of Daisy King. It reminds me that no matter how dim the situation may seem that I can prevail in whatever situation I am faced in life and that if I have the confidence and stamina that I will accomplish my goals. Just as I have the same lips or walk as my grandmother, and even though I never got to know her, I share a love and joyful bond of writing with her.

If Daisy was here I would say thank you for leaving your wonderful words that I know get to read and to be able to know more about you. I Love and miss you Daisy King.