Sunday, March 29, 2009


There are little eyes upon me,
and they’re watching night and day;
There are little ears that quickly
take in every word I say;
There are little hands all eager
to help at work or play;
And a little child who’s dreaming
of the day she’ll be like me.

I'm the little darling’s idol,
I'm the wisest of the wise,
And in her mind about me
no suspicions ever rise.
She believes in me devoutly,
And all I do and say,
She will do and say in her own way
when she’s grown up like me.

There’s a wide-eyed little angel
who believes I'm always right,
And her ears are always open
and she watches day and night.
I am setting an example
each moment of each day,
For my little girl is watching
to grow up and be like me.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

a falling star

I watched a falling star
Slip from the sky, and glide
Down in a stream of silver.
The bright flash of it
Was a short sweet moment
In the heavens;
I saw it reach the horizon
And vanish suddenly.
Somehow its brief path
Left a glow in the sky
And the night was brighter.
I didn’t even wish on it;
I thought I’d leave it
For another time.
One doesn’t often see
A falling star.

Friday, March 27, 2009

pages of my life

i turn the pages of my life
as leaves in a book
the whisper of each night
as it lays down to die
seems so final
yet morning brings
a white fresh unwritten
blank sheet
teach me to number my days
and my nights
to number them
and make their final resting place
good and full and sweet




when i give my mind permission
to dream
it does
it enters happily
into the cloistered inner halls
where thoughts abide
emotions hide
it sorts and picks
and touches
busily creating
space to dream
i should go there
more often



I would build a cloudy House
For my thoughts to live in;
When for earth too fancy-loose
And too low for Heaven!
Hush! I talk my dream aloud -
I build it bright to see, -
I build it on the moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee.
-author unknown

my little bit of sand

I own a little bit of sand,
a patch of sand by the sea,
it's just a scrubby bit of land-
but it belongs to me.

behind that tiny stretch of sand
a river runs along,
and all beside the dusty road
the palm trees whisper song.

and just in front of my piece of sand,
the ocean stretches wide!
the sun comes up at the back of it-
in front, sinks down at night.

I love my scrubby bit of land;
it holds my house of dreams.
and though there's nothing there but sand
it all belongs to me!


march, 08


A Fresh Wind Blowing

One day I’ll go out with a fresh wind blowing,
(And no one will know that I am going!)
And all the dreams that didn’t come true,
I’ll leave to another captain and crew.

My craft will be sturdy- my sails new and bright-
I’m downwind and tacking- almost out of sight!
I’ll dump all the cargo I have in the hold,
Treading deep water- carefree and bold!

When I sail out with a fresh wind blowing-
May God take note that I am going…
And hold the compass and charter the sea,
While I sail for the harbor intended for me!

-Vivian Page Wheeler


is a good day.