CHRISTOPHER STAR There was never a time when the sky didn't seem,
Too big to imagine and terribly far;
But the sky became smaller as I became taller,
And how much more a wonder; my Christopher Star.
As he held my small hand and showed me the heavens,
"God lives there", he said, and I knew it was so.
There was never a time when my Christopher Star,
Told me anything he didn't certainly know.
Like the scar on his chin, how an Indian shot him,
And the mystery of the lost blueberry patch,
And the tales he would spin of the sting of that arrow,
That had given his chin no more than a scratch.
But he was as brave and as tall as a mountain,
The bull of the woods, the king of the hill.
Yet he was a soft as the down of the duckling,
He gave me to raise against grandmother's will.
He dug a small pond for my duckling to live in,
And bundled my kittens in piles of fresh hay,
And laughed when the yard was flowing with puppies,
"No Pets" grandma said, as he waved her away.
But she was as dear as he was amazing,
And taught me to sing and to draw and to sew.
And never a woman would rise to her measure,
And never such love would one lonely child know.
For between them they gave me the whole of God's blessings,
The hills and the trees and the pastures afar.
And never such love would one lonely child harbor,
For her precious Grandma and Christopher Star.
For Aunt Billie with undying love and devotion;
By Dixie Lawrence Tafoya
Email: dixieboy@cheerful.com Page Design by Dixie Lawrence Tafoya