Family

    To Gloria with Love

    On a quiet autumn morning
    I saw a white turtledove,
    Whose mate, hovering not far away,
    Was cooing with tender love.

    And as I watched that peaceful scene,
    Loving thoughts came to me,
    And I felt your gentle presence near,
    As you returned to my memory.

    You come to me in curious ways,
    Like the essence of exotic perfumes,
    Extracts from nature's loveliness,
    From a garden in full bloom.

    Tufts of white cotton in powder blue skies,
    Billions of stars twinkling at night,
    The call of a whippoorwill to his love,
    A hummingbird poised in flight.

    A garden of potpourri in springtime,
    A mixture of fragrant flowers,
    The sweet, spiced aroma of cinnamon,
    The clean, fresh air after showers.

    Lush green carpet on the forest floor,
    A purple-blue ceiling in a storm,
    Red velvet drapes of roses grown,
    The golden chandelier lighting each morn.

    Now and then something special occurs,
    And it serves to let me know,
    That after each storm comes serenity,
    From the reposing colors of a rainbow.

    You're always here within my heart,
    In the things I see and hear,
    I need only to wish it so,
    And like magic you appear.

    Sometimes you're in the things I feel,
    The warmth of sun-bleached sand,
    The refreshing coolness of summer rain,
    The silky touch of a newborn's hand.

    Thoughts of you bring me happiness,
    They fill my heart with melodies,
    Though each bird's song is unique only to him,
    Together they make a harmonious symphony.

    I feel your presence every day,
    In things that bring me pleasure,
    And I carefully wrap each precious thought,
    To place in my own life's treasures.

    Your love and wisdom guide me still,
    For the things I say and do,
    Are never mere words or idle deeds,
    But touched and inspired by you.

    And so I thought you'd like to hear,
    That I'll forever keep you close to me.
    Dear sister, you are My Lovely Golden Rose
    In my book of precious memories.


    Who Would Have Thought?

    Who would have thought that my tiny girl with brilliant black eyes,
    Who demanded much attention with her persistent cries,
    Who walked and talked well before it was time,
    Would be an enigma personified, this daughter of mine.

    Who would have believed that you stuck like "Elmer's" glue,
    Shy, apprehensive, often concealing the real you,
    Big hearted, playful, mischievous and funny too,
    Trying hard to please me in everything you do.

    How could I have suspected that in your teenage years,
    You'd be living with a phone growing out of your ears.
    That you'd lay siege to the bathroom, your favorite place,
    Where you'd spend countless hours making up your face,

    Where the mirror has become your very best friend,
    And dressing up lasts for hours on end.
    It never occurred to me how fast you'd grown,
    'Til my clothes and perfumes you claimed as your own.

    You often fall asleep with one ear to the phone,
    And the caretaker of your room must be a cyclone.
    Clothes thrown haphazardly in unimaginable...