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~ The Old Maid ~
I remember Mary in her apron and starched cap, forever rushing
to the door when she heard the knocker rap. Scrubbing floors and
dusting rooms preparing meals each day, waiting on her mistress
in a prim and proper way. Her hands were red and work worn her
back was slightly bent, her homely face wreathed in smiles
revealed a sweet content. During my childhood she sought my
company it pleased her to give me treats and have me stay to
tea. I would sit beside her as gentle as a lamb enjoying home
made cakes and delicious strawberry jam. When her mistress
severed earthly ties Mary was free, to reside with her brother
in her native Coventry. Each year she sent a letter which I
treasured more than gold, how many more I wondered for she was
growing old. At the age of eighty her faithful heart stood
still, if I try to find her like again I know I never will.
~ Ken ~
On his left foot he wore a high boot through life he hopped
along there was no resentment or bitterness his heart was full
of song. He earned his living in a hotel where his talent was
put to the test his employers were more than satisfied they
considered him one of the best. Ken often spoke of retirement
and the pleasures he would pursue illness took the upper hand
his dreams will not come true. I watched him day by day growing
more sunken and worn he had always been a fighter from the
moment he was born. He fought a losing battle tears spill over
my pen many will mourn the passing of courageous Ken.
~ Bugs ~
A little black rabbit lost his way and was classified as no more
than a stray. Providence offered him a happy home with a garden
in which to roam. He thrived on good food and loving care and
followed his mistress everywhere. Bugs was the apple of her eye
why oh why did he have to die. Forget him she never will in a
photo frame he is living still.
~ A Precious Gift ~
Not in the flesh but in my dreams I see you everyday, as I loved
you then I love you now there is no other way. Love endures and
sustains past and future years, throughout life's ups and downs
it is the cup that cheers. Friends are the blessing of the Lord
a gift to all mankind sometimes out of sight but never out of
mind.
~Reflection ~
My little silver mirror hangs upon the wall, holding precious
memories of days beyond recall. Listen to my story and you will
plainly see, why my little silver treasure means so much to me.
I look in the mirror what do I see - an angelic face smiling at
me, blue eyes a-shining cheeks all aglow, golden curls caught in
a pink ribbon bow. I look in the mirror what do I see - a happy
teenager laughing at me, oh so demure in a frilled muslin gown,
made to entrance every lad in town. I look in the mirror what do
I see - a radiant bride blushing at me, there she stands on the
threshold of life, taking her vow to be a good wife.
~ Sunday Special ~
Sunday was special in more ways than one, my father stayed home
his weeks work was done. We laid on a little longer with tea and
biscuits in bed, for the Sunday lunch there was a lot to be
said. Roast lamb and mint sauce fruit pie and cream, looking
back now it all seems like a dream. In the afternoon we had a
treat a bar of chocolate of sweets to eat. During the evening we
sat by the radio enjoying songs of praise, to this precious
memory my cup of happiness I raise.
~ The Green Leather Diary ~
In my father's waistcoat pocket next to his heart a green
leather diary played a large part. All my quaint sayings and the
things I tried to do were recorded in the pages honest and true.
A gentleman was a 'gentlin' a cockerel a 'cotty do', I declared
a chicken had a 'sockie shoe'. I wore 'ningies' and a 'bondy' I
liked everything in rhyme, my old rag books were read to me time
after time. My good attempt at walking in nineteen twenty three,
the joy of my first birthday and the gifts sent to me. A
dulcimer, a coloured ball, a doll and a toy to wind, a teddy
bear and a bracelet with lots of love entwined. Trips to the
seaside with my bucket and spade, the wide eyed wonder when sand
pies were made. My first straw hat silver grey with
forget-me-nots the very height of fashion for tiny tots. The
diary closed when I was five but all the precious memories are
kept alive. I have not the slightest doubt my father loved me
dearly, in every word on every page the message stands out
clearly.
~ A Grand New Man ~
I sat my father on the divan and announced I would make him a
grand new man. I washed his face and combed his hair, I
straightened his tie with the utmost care. I filed his nails and
brushed his suit and highly polished each black boot, then a
spray of perfume to complete I declared he looked a treat. He
allowed me to do it as a kind father should, after all my
intentions were extremely good.
~ A Nice Little Dress - When It's Finished ~
I decided to make some dresses to keep my dolls looking smart,
at seven I did not realise that sewing was such a fine art.
Halfway through my endeavour I abandoned it with a sigh, perhaps
a blouse would be easier I must have another try. If I just
wrapped the fabric around them it may be quicker by far, if that
fails to please they will simply stay as they are. It will be a
nice little dress when it's finished somehow it never got done,
I wanted to see the result before I had hardly begun.
~ Any Old Rags ~
An old man sat outside my school offering gifts in exchange for
rags, after a thorough search in drawers and cupboards he
received bags and bags. We could choose a goldfish, jigsaws,
games or books of fairy stories as he never revealed his name he
was known as 'Mr. Glories'. Pocket money did not compare with
the standard of today yet children were richer in many a way.
Expensive toys and bicycles far beyond their reach the art of
sweet contentment they could surely teack.
~ The Bubble Pipe ~
With a bowl of soapy water and a pipe made of clay, I sat in the
garden on a bright summer day. Through drawing in the liquid and
blowing it out beautiful bubbles come floating about. Pink and
orange, yellow and green just like a dainty fairy scene.
Childhood is now a thing of the past, I wish such joys would
always last.
~ For Sale ~
I reside in Monastery Road such a quiet pleasant abode,
neighbours are charming they do not interfere we all live in
harmony year after year. Now I discover a house up 'For sale' if
it could speak it would tell a sad tale. The lady who owns it is
left all alone her loved one has passed to a region unknown. She
cannot repair life's broken threads lonely old age is a factor
she dreads. Decisions are made the battle is won, she has
decided to live with her son. A time to surrender a time to
begin, soon a new family will be moving in. Green casement
windows will open again and songbirds are singing a happy
refrain. The music of voices fill every room hands encourage the
flowers to bloom. They can be sure we will express our sincere
wish for their happiness. Asking no questions remaining discreet
a warmth will envelope whenever we meet. For this is the culture
this is the mode, this is the blessing of Monastery Road.
~ Thompson and Johns ~
William Thompson was immaculate his shop so clean and neat, a
respected family butcher selling top grade meat. Lamb young and
tender, veal succulent, liver rich in vitamins earned many a
compliment. Delicious pork sausages freshly made each day aptly
described as the pride of Torbay. Bacon, tripe, beef-burgers no
matter what he sold it gave satisfaction to young and old. A
most jovial fellow never feeling blue there was a smile and a
joke the whole week through. Is it any wonder he did a roaring
trade, everyone agrees he deserves an accolade.
~ The Four Seasons ~
Happy Springtime,
happy springtime it never fails to please, birds start mating
there is blossom on the trees. Dark clouds have passed away
revealing skies of blue, mother natures miracles are born anew. Summer
days have lengthened providing extra hours honey bees are busy
in gardens gay with flowers. A profusion of butterflies flutter
here and there, children's merry laughter can be heard
everywhere. Autumn leaves are tumbling
down in the cities and the town, a wondrous sight to behold
carpets of russet amber and gold. Winter
had descended hedgerows are white with snow, giving the
holly-berries an added glow. Church bells herald Christmas time
there is music and song, little robin redbreast comes hopping
along.
~ Miss Smith ~
How does she greet the break of day or the soft approach of
night, Miss Helen Smith has never known the miracle of sight.
Yet gratitude and thankfulness occupy her mind to reveal a
disposition that is so sweet and kind. Every moment of her
living she holds most dear teaching others like herself to
overcome their fear. All her tomorrows have so much to gain, a
breath of spring, the brilliant sun, cool refreshing rain. The
merry sound of birds on high, laughing children passing by. The
comfort of the fireside a visit from a friend, pure and simple
pleasures blessings without end. Providing the ability to
penetrate the fog Miss Helen Smith goes on her way guided by her
dog.
~ Innocence ~
I walked around the Co-op store gazing at all the shelves as it
is self-service customers help themselves. I bought some butter
and margarine, soup and potted meat and selected a jar of
Strawberry jam for a teatime treat. As I approached the cereals
I met Annelie a vision of loveliness barely three. She started
counting on her fingers one, two, three, four that was her limit
she knew no more. By her serious expression she had something to
proclaim "My mummy's called Mummy what's your name?"
She showed me her favourite sweeties and biscuits as well, in
fact she liked everything the shop had to sell. Her mother took
her by the hand and led her away, the innocence of childhood
really made my day.
~ My Two Cousins ~
My two cousins were as different as chalk and cheese, Ronald was
wild John aimed to please. He was the studious type keen on
books and learning, Ron indulged in practical jokes which set my
ears a-burning. They were quite the opposite in their married
life, John was the master Ron relied on his wife. I had no
favourite I respected them equally and wish I'd had more time to
enjoy their company. When faced with a problem I would consult
John, to help me escape from the doldrums there was no one like
Ron.
~ Olde Worlde Cottage ~
High upon a cliff top above the harbour wall stands an old world
cottage picturesque and small. It has blue lattice windows and a
primrose yellow door providing warmth and shelter for
two-hundred years or more. As I gazed in admiration the gate was
opened wide the charming lady owner invited me inside. She spoke
with affection of her 'little place' a golden retreat from
life's eternal pace. Gilded frames held paintings of quiet
country scenes the dresser and the alcoves were adorned with
figurines. Every room denoted a sweet tranquility the only sound
to be heard was the music of the sea. I was told at Christmas
ghosts of the past return to capture lost memories they secretly
yearn. Those mystic interludes hold no fear perfect peace
envelopes the fire burns bright and clear. Many consider this
story is rather tall but I will never doubt the word of Mrs.
Josie Hall.
~ Quiet Moments ~
In my quiet moments my thoughts often stray to a little cobbled
street many miles away. I retrace my footsteps through the old
mill town where happy smiling faces seldom wore a frown. Days so
dark and dreary with mist upon the morn love forever warming the
house where I was born. I think of my dear mother she worked so
hard for me to make my childhood dreams a sweet reality. In my
quiet moments I'll say a special prayer thank you for my
blessings I find them everywhere.
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