Grandma Knitted Love
My grandma made mittens
and sewed flannel underwear,
soft as new baby kittens.
Upon our heads, often bare
she placed hats with pom pom
hand crafted with great care.
In a time not so far gone,
these gifts were made of gold,
powerful as muscle and brawn.
Colorful checkers and bold
kept us protected from cold.
In A Quiet House
In the silent morning
with no television,
the only light comes from
ice fog-bound
sodium arcs
penetrating the crack
between thick curtains.
I sit with coffee and dreams
remembering the past
and contemplating
the future
that begins
with one more sip
and solemn vows.
Here in the quiet
of a sleeping house
where even puppies
still lie abed,
I muse on the perfection
of morning,
life, and love.
Smiles,
like fleeting moments,
come and go
upon soft breaths
as I think of my love
and how a gentle word
makes a beautiful day.
"Baby, wake up."
"Do you need a ride
to work?"
"I want to tell you something."
"I love you."
"Have a great day."
Warm hugs in a quiet house.
Kathy Sutton
I remember when as a child I cried,
and you were sure my tears dried.
When I seemed to have no friends,
you were there to make amends
and assure I wasn't left all alone.
I think of you now that I am grown.
If there are truly angels who see,
I am thankful you were there for me.
Kathy, I can never hope to repay
the caring you continue to display.
I remember when as a child I cried,
and you were sure my tears dried.
Books to read and paper and pens,
small treat and other odds and ends
are things I remember you did bring.
Mostly seeing you smile made me a king.
I looked forward to your frequent call,
praying your schedule would stall,
giving more moments of your golden light
which to me always shined so bright.
Kathy, you truly are a savior to me.
I thank God for you on bended knee.
I remember when as a child I cried,
and you were sure my tears dried.
Some would say it was your job,
dismiss my musing with a head bob,
but they didn't see your warm heart,
wisdom and life lessons you did impart.
I am a better man for things you gave.
Over years, these warm memories I save;
a collection of books of outsiders murmurs
and a hopeful thought whatever occurs.
Kathy, I know God must smile upon you,
and clap His hands at the good you still do.
I remember when as a child I cried,
and you were sure my tears dried.
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