I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot lately, which
led me to this poem.
APRIL VIOLETS
My mother wore violets,
A tiny twist of purple
Caught up in a small brooch
Of Whitby Jet pinned to her jumper.
Later, she would wear them in her hair.
©2021 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 
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I grow violets in memory of my aunt. Now if I can only get them to bloom like she did.
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The only violets I know are wild and they all grow in musky areas full of dark damp earth. We have a bed of
them in our garden around the base of a tree with a mass of periwinkle . Good luck with growing them in
memory of your Aunt.
Gwen.
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