Aunt Verna

She spoke her mind
And why shouldn't she?
She was 85 and had earned her right to speak.
She wore gingham-patterned pants
And ate only bean soup when taken to the Olive Garden;
Then made us pie for dessert.
She looked just right holding her daughter's dog, Trixie, on her lap.
Her apartment was cluttered with knickknacks and letters
she'd collected over the years.
I wrote her letters and she always wrote right back.
She'd save my letters, which made me feel good.
I admired her -
She was kooky, but real.
And I'm glad we were friends.
My father once said I had her sardonic sense of humor;
I like that -
Perhaps someday I will amuse others the way she always amused me.