Perfect Rose ~ Cracked Vase. A true story of a girl's struggles with having congenital rubella syndrome.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Happy Birthday Dad!!!
My father and I
My father... loved me and... I loved him.
My father... helped me and... I tried to help him.
My father...wrote songs and... I sang them.
My father... smiled and... my heart smiled back.
My father... gave and... I took.
My father's first love was his mother...and my father was mine.
My father loved Mario Lanza and I loved the Beach Boys
My father loved Music and... so did I.
My father taught me right from wrong and... I learned.
My father glided across the ice rink and...I followed.
My father held my hand and... I held his love.
My father loved to play the piano and I loved to listen.
My father loved my mother and so did I.
My father's journey on this mortal life is done, but his spirit lives.
A tree drops it's leaves, a rose blooms, a baby giggles, a hug gives warmth, and the words I love you bring peace.
My dad dropped his dreams to help mine. He made my world bloom with joy. He lit up my life.
His hugs were warmer than the bright sun.
His deep voice spoke volumes with the words, "I love you"
His laughter pierced my soul with delight and comfort.
My father's sky blue eyes...sparkled and still sparkle when, I see stars dress the sky.
Happy Birthday dearest, lovable, priceless Dad...You are missed each time I take a breath, look at my children and grandchildren. YOU will forever be imbedded in my life.
I love you to the moon and back. I love you always and forever.
I appreciate you being my father and letting me be your daughter.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Life Cycle Is Like A Rose
It starts out as a seed
Craving water and sun.
The roots seek to find rich soil
And the rosebud wants to exhibit it beauty.
With each new bloom
Followed by a thorn or two.
As the wind blows and the rain descends
The petals begin to fall.
The rose reaches and stretches for energy,
Hopeful that the day ahead will bring
More potency.
New buds appear
Filled with splendor.
The mature rose
Greets each bud,
Gives them a wave,
And then,
Becomes exhausted.
Anxious to shed its petals,
And return to the soil it once came from.
Craving water and sun.
The roots seek to find rich soil
And the rosebud wants to exhibit it beauty.
With each new bloom
Followed by a thorn or two.
As the wind blows and the rain descends
The petals begin to fall.
The rose reaches and stretches for energy,
Hopeful that the day ahead will bring
More potency.
New buds appear
Filled with splendor.
The mature rose
Greets each bud,
Gives them a wave,
And then,
Becomes exhausted.
Anxious to shed its petals,
And return to the soil it once came from.
Written By: Pamela Shelton Reynolds
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