(Two Poems)
May and December
Young people are carefree, impatient
for fun;
They race with time - hop, skip
and run.
They're like the merry month of
May,
Trying to do everything all in
one day.
They forget that I was young once,
too,
Doing all the things they do.
Age is December - winter just slows;
Things take longer and patience
grows.
Bones are tired; some things I
forget;
Just give me time - I'll remember
them yet.
Memories are stored in my winter
heart;
I'd love to share them with spring's
work of art.
Whether May or December a smile
is still a smile,
And running or walking, we'll meet
in awhile.
Take my hand and sit by my side;
Tell me your stories; I'll listen
with pride.
Joan Adams Burchell
(copyright)
* * *
Yesterday
Head tossed back, hair blowing in the breeze,
Feet skipping along as carefree as you please.
I remember - can't they see
That only yesterday this was me?
Joan Adams Burchell
(copyright)
Angel Verse