Tag Archives: memories

Amanda

I wrote this when I was a young mom, shortly after my first baby was born and I was overwhelmed by the love I had (and still have) for her.

Watching her sleep, so helpless and small

The greatest gift from God20160905_121527

The most beautiful miracle of all

Tiny and wonderful, full of love to give

She smiles in her sleep, having angel dreams

I reach down and touch her cheek

Stroking her soft pink skin

Looking into sparkling, wide eyes,

Laughing over a tiny upturned nose,

She has brought joy and love to an empty life.

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Regret

The rosy bloom
turned its face to me
like the sun
Reaching
Soft petals caressing
as I hurried past

Days turned cold
pink faded to white
petals wilted
Brown
gently dropping
Rushing, I didn’t notice

As the flower died
I recalled the rosy hue
The petal’s soft embrace

Too late.

The House Becomes

A house is merely a building, a structure,

made of wood, and glass

stone, and plaster.

It gives shelter from the cold, safety from harm,

a place to rest your head.

But wait.

Now fill it.

Fill it with love, and warmth

and welcoming arms.

Fill it with joy and laughter

tears and sadness.

Fill it with happiness, and grief.

Life. And death.

Now look.

Now it is transformed.

It is no longer simply walls and windows and doors.

No longer only shelter, or safety.

Filled with these things it becomes

something beautiful,

something inviting, and comforting;

something wonderful.

Filled with love, filled with family,

the house becomes

Home.

home

Gram, Remembered

Her cool hand on
My fevered head
A soft smile and
A soothing touch.

Church on Sundays
All dressed up, “Sit still
And we’ll get candy”
Her voice
Beautiful, when she sings the hymns.

In the kitchen
Baking pies. Flour and shortening
Transformed, like magic.
Dough scraps and jelly become tarts
For the helpers.

A little older
It’s shopping and lunch and
“Don’t tell Grampa!”
But we did, and he grumbled,
Then laughed when we modeled.

The weekend’s over
Now we’re clinging and
Crying, and begging.
“We don’t want to go”
Because to us, this was home too.