Monday, October 5, 2009


I was cleaning out a drawer today (I saw a show last night on Hourders...scared the bejingers out of me), and I ran across an old poem I wrote right after my father died, some 35 years ago.

It goes:

As a child, I was as free as a soft and gentle flower,
the sound of laughter was all around.

Now, I'm grown and all confused,
I feel the world with all it's cruelty.

Sometimes when my world turns cold,
I think of those ever so warm days.

Just thought I would back to sorting.

Love and Kisses

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