|
Betty Hattersley
http://bettyhattersley.purpledream.com |
A Grandchild
09/01/06 |
God creates his miracles, priceless beyond compare,
Riches we can love each day and show we really care.
A Grandchild is a treasure, a gift, a work of art,
Nothing can replace their love and the feeling in your heart.
Doing things together, playing, having fun,
Caring, sharing, happy times, you are their number one.
How they sit and listen, to stories that you tell,
Indeed they are so trusting, when you say that all is well.
Little one's that come along, their best friend you can be,
Delightful brand new branches upon your family tree.
| | |
 |
Nostalgia
06/15/08 |
Nostalgia is a word we use with thoughts about the past,
You know the one's that's in our head? Of memories that still last.
Perhaps it was a moment, just a day that touched our life,
Or maybe of a person, a husband or a wife.
Our children give us days to keep quite safe within our heart,
The magic days you spent with them giving them they're start.
It can be of a loved one, that day you said goodbye,
I hate the memories that you keep, the one that make you cry.
Happy days of holidays, with parents on the beach,
Being small and seeing things you thought was out of reach.
Do you remember any day you won a special prize?.
Thinking how you made it and how you felt so wise.
Alas there are some sad days, hoping we'd forget,
Whenever, we remember them, we only get upset.
Our memories are important that's if we get them right,
Friends and family that we knew, thinking of their plight.
We all have different memories, of times that's been and gone,
They're part of our tomorrows, how sad to not have none.
| | |
|
The Swerater
07/31/08 |
I thought I would knit a fine sweater,
with ribbons and buttons and bows.
Reading the pattern so carefully,
checking the stitches and rows.
It took me so long to complete it,
so proud of this smart knitted piece.
A gift would be great, in time for the date,
as a birthday surprise for my Niece.
But alas when she tried on her present,
with patience she tried to look right.
I'd not made the neck hole correctly,
My word, it really looked tight.
She squeezed herself into it some how,
Her face looked a light shade of red.
The sleeves were to long, something was wrong,
You could only see half of her head.
I don't think I'll try and make presents,
Round the shops I think it should be.
Perhaps if I started the fashion,
My sweaters on sale they would be.
| | |
|
