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Poem 1: A Beginning

I sat and I wondered, to myself in my head, what shall I do before going to bed? "There's not much day left; there's no time ...

Friday, August 26, 2011

Poem 315: Mom

In 19 hundred 55
a beautiful girl was born
with fine straight hair and feathered frame
and a heart made out of gold

To her mother, Melba
and to Edwin, her dad
she was their firstborn daughter
the first of two they had.

And then the daughter grew up
and turned into a mom
and had three kids to call her own
(one who's very tall).

The husband who she calls "my man"
is bright and strong and kind
His farmer's tan the best they have
and his love for her is bold

So now at age of 56
her blonde hair's turning grey
her skin is wrinkling just a bit
but her heart's still bright as day!

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