You had no flowers in your hand
No gift bought with silver or gold. Read more »
(This poem, one of my first, was originally written in November of 1978 when I was 12 years old.)
Here I stand, just on the verge of tears
When just a day or so ago, Grief came to visit me.
He brought with him what can be plainly seen
Three kids, who could care nothing for their inheritance mean; Read more »
I love the sight of fall.
It’s fun to watch the green leaf
As it turns red, orange, yellow or brown.
There is the nicely stacked golden grain sheaf
And the bright orange pumpkins sitting all around.