| Lullaby The house is still, the lights turned low I kiss your cheeks, your fuzz of hairYour face is wreathed in sleepy glow.Contentment deep and joy so rare! It’s time for bed and don’t you cry I’ll sing for you my lullaby. |
Tree House (to Mark) Your life must be one daily spree When you can live way up in a tree,You live so high above the ground You really see what’s all around.But please, don’t fall upon your head –The hospital and so to bed. Say, do you talk to all the birds?In their own tweeting, warbling words?I bet you seem quite giant tallAnd all the world looks awfully small.But please, don’t cause such great alarmYou might break more than just an arm! Just climb upon your lofty perchThen shade your eyes to dream and searchReach for the moon – count every starAnd think of lovely lands afar,But please, don’t strain your sturdy backYou’ll give us all a heart attack….He did! |
| Acceleration – To Tim Activities, exper-i-mentsTimmy’s motor runs high-gearin everything he ever does.He scurries like a summer flythat wings a constant nervous buzz.He delights to find his short-cut waysthat leap to leave each task half-done.sure keep that youngster on the run.One day his sister’s kitten died,“”Mother!”” came her sobbing shout,“”Timmy buried my black kitten….And left the tail out.” |
| Memory SipsMy mind returns to memory rooms?where love still blooms in youthful ways of yesterdays.?Three babies grew and romance came to lay its claim.?Then papa died –?I wept and sighed.?Each afternoon I still am prone to sit alone?for little sips of memory trips. |
Ben and the MartinsI built a house for them?And watched them every evening?And from my lounging chair,?Set on green, green grass amid?Parading colors marching by?(golden daffodils, purple pansies and velvet roses in a row),?I watched their darting ways Until my eyes were closed.Now I wing and wheel the air?Above the house where I once lived.?My soul, torn from my pain-wracked flesh,?Is loosed and I am free.With all the martins I can swoop?Above the garden I designed,?Darting low to gently brush?My Julie’s silvered hair?As she walks among the roses.Let martins wing away for winter,?I have no will for far-off lands;?my heart is not quite free! (In memory of her husband, H. B. Siemens) |
| Miniature DelightTiny hummingbirds delight me with their graceful antics of pirouettes, air-pulsing wings and long, long bills?that siphon honey buds, sip, by sip. |
