UNDER CONSTRUCTION / More poetry is being added. TIME FLIES so fleeting, so fast, where have they gone. it must be something about getting old. and the joy of granting little wishes. these haunting memories will always linger. and far away with lives of their own. I wonder if I’ll ever have them close to home to stay. too old to lose sleep and walk the floor. but the babies are so far away and I’m loosing valuable time. a childless granny sips daily from age’s bitter cup. so many wasted moments that it seems like such a crime. that time speeds up as the years come and go. so when you are old you can call it back for a moment of fleeting pleasure.
The years oh my how they have flown,
This melancholy feeling gets out of control,
I really miss little hugs and kisses,
A little hand tugging at my finger,
My children both are grown,
Each time I watch them drive away,
Too old to be a mommy anymore,
A perfect granny in grandma prime,
People change and children grow up,
I have to settle for a visit from time to time,
Let all that read be sure to know,
Treasure each moment and hold it fast, lock it in memories treasure,
When we hear all the horrors of columbine High,
So brutal, so senseless, we all question why?
Children in trench coats on a bloody killing spree,
There is a problem in the land of the free.
Movies are filled with hate, murder, violence and crime,
Our youth is exposed to it time after time.
I’m sure parents thought the trench coats were just a phase,
Never dreaming of the heartache that would come of this craze.
Young sons and daughters with futures so bright,
Like shooting stars have disappeared and taken all their light.
As a mother strokes the pillow of her child’s empty bed,
She weeps in great torment, for the child she bore is dead.
Who can know the pain in a parent’s loving heart,
Who would have dreamed that so soon they should part?
It’s not too late to change, there is a better way,
We should watch very closely the games that they play.
If children were raised and taught according to God’s plan,
There would be fewer problems for modern man.
If all were taught to live by the golden rule,
Children would be safe, even when they are in school.
The things in life that were my greatest source of joy,
were wrapped up in the packages of a baby, a fair skinned little girl and a dark haired little boy.
Deep within there's turmoil, I feel empty and confused,
the sparks gone out, I just feel old and used.
I miss placing kisses on velvet soft cheeks,
and holding them close in a rocking chair that squeaks.
I miss the sound of laughter and running in the hall,
I even miss the little finger prints that trailed along the wall.
The little toys they left behind, I tearfully packed away,
not a trace of children anywhere, the house stays quiet all day.
It helps to know they're happy living in Texas now,
and soon I hope this pain will pass and I'll get along somehow.
Our mighty God in heaven makes no mistakes,
and so I believe this move was for the children's sakes.
He sees me weeping, He knows every tear I cry,
and when through pain I've stronger grown, then He will wipe them dry.
If you want to help me now, just keep the Kleenex near,
and let me cry until I've cried my last and final tear.
by; Lillian Carol Russell
Inside your mother's womb you grew,
your beauty known only to God, your precious life so new.
When I hold you cradled safely in my arms,
I'm mystified by your precious charms.
The little smile that so often curls your lips,
the touch is like velvet from those tiny fingertips.
I wonder as I watch what you must be thinking of,
to bring that little smile, it has to be God's love.
Perhaps you're remembering how the angels could sing,
perhaps you still hear the flap of angel's wings.
I know when I look at you my love,
God sent you straight here from His presence above.
We're so thankful that He placed you with us,
to be nurtured and raised in our trust.
My prayer for you my precious baby dear,
is that you never be misguided while you are here.
May the path on which you're led from today until you're old,
be the path that leads you gently back to those streets of gold.
by your grandmother
Lillian Carol Russell
He was one, our little boy,
he filled for us each day with joy.
He was two and oh so cute,
in his little Navy suit.
He was three and I could see,
he looked not a bit like me.
Now that he had grown to four,
looked like his daddy even more.
He was five and now I knew,
another life within me grew.
Not quite six when she was born,
at noon the ninth, one August morn.
Thank you God for this event,
both of them were heaven sent.
Let them both grow tall and strong,
help us never guide them wrong.
I wish that all could know the joy,
of a baby girl and one small boy.
By: Lillian Carol Russell
The day is so pretty the skys are so blue but inside my heart is the darkest gray,
the most precious treasures I had on this earth are gone far far away.
They packed all their toys and their cute little clothes said good-bye with a hug and a kiss,
nobody knows just how much joy that they brought, naught can replace the sweet children I miss.
Almost five, Christian so cute and so smart,
firstborn grandchild, heart of my heart.
Impish and angelic, my pretty Laura's only three,
her sweet little hugs and kisses were like a breath of life to me.
Dominique's just one month old today,
I'll never really get to know her, to watch her grow and play.
Bear with me as I shed my tears,
I weep because I am no more a part of their growing years.
Oh sure I'll get to visit maybe once or twice a year,
but that will never be enough, not after having them here.
Their daddy's got work in Texas, and so they've gone to stay,
they tore out a chunk of my heart as I watched them drive away.
Seventeen hours to Dumas, my heart feels like clouds and rain,
I must go on, I will go on, but first I must get past the pain.
I cried when they moved away,
my heart had never known a pain like it felt that awful day.
I held my grandchildren so close, hugged and kissed them and said good-bye,
but only when they drove away did I dare begin to cry.
I walked to the end of the lane as they drove out of sight,
in the days and weeks that followed I cried both day and night.
It's February now, it's been over a year,
another birthday has come and gone that I could not be near.
I hear the changes in Christian's voice when we talk on the phone,
all traces of baby talk now completely gone.
Already he has learned to read and write,
days and months and names of all the states he can recite.
The smartest in his class and hungry for knowledge,
next thing I know he'll be heading off to collage.
Six years old and growing up so fast,
it breaks my heart because I'm missing all those little special things and I know that childhood doesn't last.
Only through prayer am I with them everyday,
because I always lift them up when to the Lord I pray.
My grandchildren are always wrapped tight around my heart,
and I love them in a special way even though we are apart.
It’s very old, the seat’s a bit worn,
it was here long before I was born.
Early each morning when the day is new,
I just sit in the swing and plan things to do.
It is there where often I speak to God in prayer,
laying on Him my burdens and care.
From there I watch the sun climb and paint the sky,
bringing a new day as it rises high.
Many before me rested there from labors of the day,
just swinging and soothing their cares away.
If it could speak many stories might be told,
of love and joy and sorrow in the days of old.
I keep pen and paper near when I’m sitting in the swing,
for poems come forth so easily as if it were a magic thing.
By: Lillian Carol Russell
