My Mother’s Hand

When I was young, I’d hold onto my mother’s hand,
It was strong and soft, its guide a gentle demand.
She held my hand as the years passed, and I’d grown,
Through those years, she helped me to stand on my own.

More years pass by, and it’s my husband’s hand, I now hold,
A callous, strong hand, with love and kindness that’s bold.
Before long, I use my own gentle demands,
As I take hold of my own children’s precious, soft hands.

I teach them and guide them and show them the way,
Knowing they’ll be ready to stand on their own one fine day.
These treasures of mine make my heart sing a tune,
For I know that the day when they’re grown will be soon.

As they grow, they become strong, independent, and kind,
With a bright life ahead, I know a great love they will find.
The days pass for all of us, some bright and some blue,
So evident is the circle of life we live through.

They will hold their love’s hands as tight as can be,
And in time, new little hands build up more love in me.
How the years pass, as the cycle rings true,
These hands in mine help to shut out the blues.

And now, as my mom crosses the street with less pep,
I hold out my hand to help guide her step,
My hand once so small is now strong and mature,
And I take hold of her hand with a love that is pure.

Holding on Tight

Do you:
Remember the sound of your baby giggling?

I close my eyes to relive those days—
Hugs wrapped around my neck,
Quiet dreamland asleep in my arms.

    You were a tiny little person,
    Needing so much love and attention.

Do you:
Remember reading Goodnight Moon over and over again?

We would laugh and make funny faces,
Searching hard while you hid under the table,
Rubbing noses with special nose kisses.

    You grew into your own personality.

Do you:
Remember the first day of school, frightened to leave and holding on so tight?

Making new friends, some kept for life,
Playing a cow in a school play,
Reading a book before bedtime.

    The clock speeds by fast—
    And my little one’s a teenager.

Do you:
Remember starting high school, the lowest grade on campus?

Timid and scared, yet learning to drive,
Being brave and asking a date to a school dance,
Branching out and spending the night with friends.

    Independence takes root, and college calls.

Do you:
Remember starting college, creating your own timetable?

Leaving home to make your own way,
Finding someone whose arms wrap around your neck,
Making decisions on what you’ll do next.

    Joy blooms in unexpected places.

Do you:
Remember longing for your love’s attention?

Planning your once-in-a-lifetime wedding,
Moving into a house with a fenced-in yard,
Learning that refrigerators die and have to be replaced.

    Roots take hold while new branches form.

Do you:
Remember when you held that precious new life in your arms?

Starting your own little family,
Changing diapers and midnight feedings,
Smiling down at a sleeping newborn.

    Living life, loving new lives.

Do you:
Remember all the years that were lived, and lives that were loved?

Grandma and Grandpa cherish this life,
Giving gentle hugs and kisses goodnight,
Older parents relearning their way,
Still learning to let go, while holding on tight.

A Red, White, and Blue Body

My nose is red, my toes are blue,
In between, I have a white hue.

The sun makes my nose turn deep red,
Always bright and something I dread.

To me, cold weather says anything goes!
Just look at the blue on my fingers and toes!

The years have taken my teeny swim suit,
My belly, so white, I laugh, what a hoot!

Needless to say, I’m the talk of the town,
I go to kids parties, already the clown.

But in the springtime, my color is fair,
Except for silver, that streaks through my hair.

invisible scars

Why do we judge
each other

You

Your hair
It’s too short
It’s too long
Your weight
You should eat less
You should eat more
Your attitude
You should listen more
You should share more

We even criticize each other…

For

loving too much
caring too much
giving too much

KINDNESS CALMS THE SOUL

a kind word
a helping hand
a moment of understanding
a moment of silence

Criticism can hurt.
Kindness can heal.

Oh Me, Oh My – Sunflowers

S hades of yellow light the sky
U nique patterns catch my eye
N ewly grown and standing proud
F ields of beauty entice the crowd
L ittle grey stripes adorn each seed
O h, the squirrels just love to feed
W himsical flowers chase the sun
E nergized and ready for fun
R acing through the stalks nearby
S unflowers thrill me, oh me, oh my!!

Sunflower

Sweet Gardenias

White Gardenias

G entle fragrance fills the air,
A soothing scent beyond compare.
R efined in white, each bloom so shy,
D ancing slowly as breezes sigh.
E xquisite blooms arrive in Spring,
N obility to make your heart sing.
I t speaks of elegance and romance,
A day when heart’s find happiness.
S weet gardenias, pure and true.

A Dragon In Bloom

S tunning flowers with bright red blooms
N oble in their gentle grace
A mazing colors lure the bees
P eaceful pockets of golden seed
D elicate petals in rainbow hues
R eaching high towards the sky
A palette of colors paint the soul
G reen stalks showcase beautiful crowns
O pen to show the dragon inside

Natural wonders soothe our senses
S napping blooms, a dragon’s disguise

The Picnic Quilt

A worn bench sits under
the magnolia tree.
The garden,
once abandoned,
now brims with life.

The couple meets at the bench.
A playful grey and black dog bounds,
ready for a game of disc dog.
A quick bark sets the day.

The soft yellow disc
sails across the park.
The dog, stance set,
leaps up,
mouth open,
catching the disc mid-air.
He bounds back,
ready for another round.

The sun shines overhead,
baking everything it can reach.
The breeze,
a welcome relief
from the unforgiving heat.

The couple join each other.
A quilted blanket with
shades of blues, greens, and gold
is laid out, unfolding
memories of a lifetime
of picnics.

The quilt displays a picnic feast,
iced tea, potato salad,
sandwiches, and cherry pie, a treat.
Satisfied, they lay back
to breathe,
looking up to find pictures in the clouds.

Magnolia, gardenias, and jasmine
surround the park.
Musky, sweet, and floral scents
compete for attention.
The garden is alive with flowers.

Flight Of The Seedling

Riding the wind,
a helicopter seed
takes flight –
soaring high, dipping low,
a ballet in the sky.
A solo act performed as
nature’s play deserves an encore.

Finding a home,
fertile soil’s stage
a red maple demi-plié –
resilient, ready,
strength in every bend.

The seedling grows,
reaching for the light –
determined, primed,
persistence guiding its path.

A wooden deck,
an obstacle to conquer –
no match for
flexible stems,
adaptable, searching,
basking in the sunlight,
dancing with the wind.

Words

Philology
traces where words were born

Etymology
charts the roots of words in speech

Lexicology
studies the relationship of words we use

Morphology
dissects how words are built

Phraseology
examines how we put words together

Phonology
hears the sound of words we use


But when it comes down to it
it’s just a….
WORD – ology