Skip to main content

January River of Small Stones - Jan 10, 2012

Pale Yellow Room
Changing the paint in the bedroom lifts my spirit
Like changing the linens on her little bed
Pale yellow walls, lily white trim surround me
As I look at the soft cream and mint with rose-colored flowers
Awaiting her sweet curly head.

    January 10, 2012   
 

Comments

Barb said…
I see pale yellow as the essence of love. She'll be surrounded by it.
That is exactly what I thought, Barb! Thanks so much for stopping by.
ladyfi said…
So lovely... pale yellow is a soothing colour that speaks of renewal too.
J Cosmo Newbery said…
Calm & gentle; lovely to come home to.
Thank you ladyfi and J Cosmo! I appreciate your comments so much.

Popular posts from this blog

A Gailey Cousin Christmas Tree Tradition

Most of my family reunions and get-togethers have been centered around holidays or special events. It's hard to pick out a special personality (we have several - as I'm sure most of you do) and I've thought about all of the pets we've had in the past, the special heirlooms that grandma loved to display during the holidays and I'm really having a hard time coming up with a single one.

My aunt Irene and uncle Raymond always had the big get-togethers at their house, because it was the largest, had acres of pecans trees to play under and they had the most grandchildren! Of course, all of that was later, after all six of us cousins had grown up and had children of our own.

Thinking of Christmas, my mind keeps going back to the time before I moved into Grandma and Doc's home and we celebrated at our house. I remember getting a beautiful bride doll one Christmas. Wish I still had that doll. Have no idea where she traveled to after she got married. And then there was o…

January River of Small Stones - Jan 5, 2012

Acrostic: Bobby
BOBBY


Bushy brows draw together as the old man draws paint Over the wood – he tried to make his shaking hand glide smoothly. Both the paint and the brush left a squiggly line, By the look of his face You knew he was not pleased with his efforts.
January 5, 2012

My Home Town by Dorothy Hansen

My Home Town

For thirty years this California town
has been the place where I have slept at night,
and shopped, and worked, and driven about.

But home is where my childhood feet
ran bare on Texas clay …
on streets that were like arteries
to all the lives I loved and shared.

Now, as storm clouds gather in November
and leaves are on the ground,
these asphalt streets and stranger’s cars
seem even more remote.

I long to live where I am known,
and my grandparents, too …
where all the folks I meet each day
know just where I belong.

They’ve known my folks and relatives.
They’ve seen me go through school.
I have a place on Texas soil
in the town where I was born.

It is my home, belongs to me,
and I yearn for a hearth that’s gone.

From Dorothy Hansen's “Cedar Berries,” her collection of poems about Texas.


Dorothy Lee Hansen wrote this poem about my home town of Mineral Wells, Texas. She was born there in 1925 and is of my mother's generation. From what I have read about her she was full of life…