poem: Mary Bixby Brewster

Mary Bixby Brewster

This lady lived on the outskirts of town
    in a small, crowded house, slightly tumble-down.
She was tall and fair, always sat up straight,
    hiked or swam for miles, watched the food she ate.
She'd ride up the highway, biking alone
    in a gingham dress, twenty miles from home.
She had power in her able, but straightlaced, mind
    trained to the Bible, on a few tracks blind.
She raised up a quartet of college-bound sons,
    the oldest a beacon to the younger ones.
Yet I think she loved most her two beautiful girls,
    headstrong and destined for far away worlds.
Late in her life in a hideous slaughter,
    she lost forever her eldest daughter,
For years she would write to the babies and father
    who kept her shut out -- just some weird old bother!

After thirty-five years, her true love died,
    and with him went part of her, deep down inside.
But she met and remarried a tolerant chap
    and they set about running the second lap.
She grew somewhat bent for reasons unknown,
    as if yogurt and prayer held no sway over bone.
Then, joy beyond hope! -- her grandson, grown up,
    brought his sister to bond with this lady of love.
And her faith gave her strength. She was steadfast ... until
    one day she was gone ... don't we miss her still?

--  Leslie G. Harper
   March 24,2008

*  Mary Bixby Brewster Harden Napolski, a fine lady and role model from my original hometown in Florida whom I can never forget.

Mary Bixby Brewster Harden Napolski's beautiful page by granddaughter Rachel Harden