How often Momma would hear the words On cold and stormy nights, Or when we would tell ghost stories And give ourselves a fright. "Can I sleep with you?" we'd beg of her; She'd pull back the covers and then Welcome us with a hug so secure We didn't feel frightened again. As I grew… Continue reading Can I Sleep With You?
Tag: The Willow
Courtin’ Days
The prettiest thing he ever saw Was a girl with hair of gold. When she saw him, she knew he was The one to "have and hold.' "Can I come callin'?" he asked her, And she quickly nodded yes. It led them to a sweet courtship Neither ever would regret. The porch swing was their… Continue reading Courtin’ Days
Hold My Hand
"Hold my hand," my parents would say And I'd reach up, trustingly; Knowing they'd watch out for things I was much too small to see. They'd hold my hand when in a crowd Or when we would cross the street, And I knew as long as I held on tight, No danger with me would… Continue reading Hold My Hand
Momma’s Flowers
Momma leaned to stroke her flowers And to sniff their sweet perfume. She loved every bud we brought her, Nursed them gently to full bloom. We'd have bought her anything Because she was so dear; But when asked, she begged for flowers In the Spring of every year. We loved to gather at our Momma's… Continue reading Momma’s Flowers
Momma’s Dresser
My eyes could barely gaze upon The dresser in Mom's room; I'd tiptoe up to see her things And to smell of her perfume. Talcum powder and a jewelry box And some lipstick she never wore; I tried so hard to reach those things, Standing on the bottom drawer. Her brush and comb were silver-rimmed… Continue reading Momma’s Dresser
Momma’s Biscuits
Momma's favorite bowl was golden Trimmed with brown, for kneading dough. Every day she sifted flour For the biscuits we loved so. She pinched off the dough, then rolled it, Patting it out with loving hands; With a sprinkle of flour upon it She dropped biscuits onto the pan. I miss seeing momma kneading, Miss… Continue reading Momma’s Biscuits
Momma’s Healing Touch
My Momma had such gentle hands, But they had strength to heal; Her soothing touch could mend my soul No matter how bad I'd feel. Her kindly words could stroke my heart; Each word would ease my fears. She was always there to comfort me And wipe away my tears. When thoughts turned restless in… Continue reading Momma’s Healing Touch
Momma’s Kitchen
It was raining cold and bitter As I hurried toward the door, Knowing Mom was in the kitchen, So good treats would be in store. Smells of home assailed my senses; Mom was baking apple pie. Biscuits fresh, right from the oven Piping hot, they caught my eye. Pinto beans were cooking slowly While outside… Continue reading Momma’s Kitchen
Momma’s Quilt
Momma cut the choicest pieces Of the clothes that we'd outgrow. Each shred to her was precious; Every fragment she would sew. She would stitch each scrap together Making quilts to keep us warm. We have snuggled under the covers Through many a winter storm. Every quilt she made held memories, Pieces of each "Sunday… Continue reading Momma’s Quilt
Muscadines
Purple black, they hang above me, Vines wound tightly 'round tall trees. Sweet grape smell makes my mouth water Floating on late summer breeze. My heart catches in fond memory, Drifting back to childhood days When I stood here, staring upward: My first sight of sweet wild grapes. Skin so tough, I had to bite… Continue reading Muscadines