Life flows, from year to year.
Many generations, come and go.
How many? I don’t know.
I, remember, seven.
Great-grandmother, a wise woman;
Dressed in the old style;
From Civil War, to men in space
She was content, with few smiles.
Grandfather, a victim of life’s ills,
Especially, winter chills.
Even lightning strikes, and WPA
Formed his rocky pathway.
Parents survived the Depression
and World War Two.
That heavy load, could only,
Lead to stern, determination
Turmoil, and Vietnam, were
Softened, by my three.
Tiny smiles erase harsh news.
Time to wash, who do I choose?
One, gave me two, who
brought perspective anew.
Life is about loving,
not crying and enduring.
They gave me three
Boys! – Can you believe it? – All boys!
Do I have, to learn sports?
Or how, to climb a tree?
As life comes, it also leaves.
Now the oldest, of four generations,
Some say, I’m matriarch.
What does, that mean?
Am I now, wise, kind, loving?
I can trust, only The One Source,
And those, who went, before;
To teach me, all I need to know.
© by Sharon Dillon, August 25, 2010
Laugh your way to peace, love and joy 
Great poem! Really makes you think about Life.