The Fan. Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

You bring it everywhere,
your beautifully made fan.
It was a present from your dear grandmother.
And you cherish it lovingly,
anyway you can.

It has been in your family,
for many generations.
It is slightly torn, a little worn.
You take it to all the celebrations.
Even when your daughter was born.

For she will receive this treasure,
when she comes of age.
She will continue the tradition
and start a new page.

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .