Last night my daughter was at church with her kids, attending Christmas Eve services. As they were leaving, her youngest child, age 2, handed her a blue feather and said that "This is for Pa-paw". Martha didn't know where it come from.
The following is a poem written almost two years ago by Suzanne Horne. This will be the third time I have posted it here:
Sleeping Under Her Wing ~Liquid
The following is a poem written almost two years ago by Suzanne Horne. This will be the third time I have posted it here:
Sleeping Under Her Wing
At night when all is quiet
I notice my toes are warm
despite the snow on the ground
beneath me.
I curl into a ball
at the foot of my bed
hiding the hurt
and the tears
from little patters
of feet.
I wail so hard
silently my head
wants to explode.
She with her wing
wipes my tears.
She with her words
sings to me
and twiddles my hair.
I rub a single feather
I plucked from her wing
and stroke my cheek with it.
It soothes me.
I am warm.
I am safe.
I pull it together.
I send her
that same feather.
Although she has tons.
Comments
Love the gift from your Grandson.
Merry Christmas,
Suz