THE WHOLE OF LIFE by Viola Heverlein 1946

Age is a garden of memories,
Flowers are plants on the way;
And the dewdrops we see on the roses
Were tears in some far yesterday
 
Age is a hand-woven garment
With colors both vivid and bright,
And a spot here or there won’t be noticed
Just a sadness that lasted a night
 
Age is a tall, slender willow,
Lending its song to the air;
And if one small branch is yellowed
It dims not the beauty that’s there
 
Age is a book we have treasured
The pages earmarked and worn,
But none of the value is lessened
If one little flyleaf is torn
 
Age is a cool, shady pathway
That winds by a murmuring brook;
If one small portion is rocky
It’s just a detour we took
 
Your garden is filled with the flowers
Of all the kindness you’ve shown
Your handwoven garment holds beauty
For all of the friends you have known
 
The leaves on the tree are not yellowed
But painted with autumn’s gold;
And the book with its verses you cherish,
Has stories the pages can’t hold
 
The pathway you walk has been gladdened,
The song of the brook is more clear,
The whole of life has been brightened
Because of your presence here

This is a guest post shared by a friend of mine, Arnie Haverlein. His mother wrote this poem in 1946 and he wanted others to be blessed to read it. :)