my mother,
for being its 10,000th visitor.
And, in lieu of a prize (her idea, not mine), a poem:
You asked if you would get a prize.
Well, what you see before your eyes,
A humble rhyme of metered verse,
(The kind I often intersperse)
Is what I bring to mark this day.
A chocolate gift some might suggest
Or say that flowers would be best
But since to words this blog is prone
The prize consists of words alone
(And words don't melt or fade; they stay).
This little blog you love so well
Exists because I learned to spell,
And think, and read, and write -- from you
Who taught me what was right and true
(What water cannot wash away).
Congratulations! I love you, Mommy!
3 comments:
Whatever you write on the heart of
a child,
No water can wash away.
The sand may be shifted when
billows are wild,
And the efforts of time may decay.
Whatever you write on the heart of
a child,
A story of gladness or care
That heaven has blessed or the
earth has defiled,
Will linger unchangeable there.
Some stories may perish; some
songs be forgot,
But this graven record, time
changes not.
For whatever you write on the
heart of a child
No water can wash away.
The poet spoke truth -- thank you.
Wow, you can't see it here, but grown up #2 got mom's face, though it looks like #1 got mom's smile and energy.
Old pictures rule.
*applause* *applause*
Post a Comment