For being my friend
Even if it had to end
Lives richly in our sharing
2019 copyright © CMM
we will both grow old,
our youth wasted in time
rusted planks of life
feeling the days gone past
looking for a sign
we will understand how
little time we tout
until now, we look and see
our hands and body weathered
I will smile and feel the
glow of our youth
even though the shifts
Copyrighted: 2018 CMM
I find myself (as I do every Christmas) thinking back to a
special lady who always made Christmas so loving. There was
one gift I always remember and treasure is the one from Grandma.
She was old and retired. She was living on a very limited
income. Each Christmas she would set up a tree no taller than
Two feet. It was artificial and set on a little table covered with cotton
from old boxes, replicating snow.
She would take the little money she had and buy each of her
grandchildren hose for the girls and socks for the boys.
Today I remember her going to the little tree. Her hands had
become old with swollen joints and trembled just a little as
she picked up the little gift wrapped in thin paper from the year
before. There was always a thin ribbon, usually red tied so carefully.
Handing me the little gift, she would say, “It’s not much.” I
would always smile to her and say, “Grandma, you have no idea
how much I needed hose.” She would smile and sit next to the
Today that gift keeps giving back to me. It was love.
copyrighted: 2012 CMM
revised: CMM 2012