Your comments have meant the world to me. I have printed each and every one of them and I feel as if I have made a difference in the world, in a smile, a tear and in a heart. Thank you all.

Everytime I pass a mirror and catch that glimpse of an old lady, I say, “Who is that? It surely can’t be me? While I only feel 26/36/46 years old.” Well, I am 88 years old and currently beginning to feel every moment of it.

I have a four heart valve insufficiency. I hate using oxygen twenty-four hours a day. I hate losing that old “zip.” I liked it much better when my husband complained about not being able to keep up with me. He passed in 1998. My son passed in 1993. While I have two daughters, one in Arizona, and one in Indiana, I feel rather alone lately and you have all enriched my life and let me know I am not alone.

I am currently working on my life story. It is not that it is all that interesting to anyone but family, but it is something I want to finish. There were some interesting spots, like the time Al Capone pulled into our driveway to recruit my father, who made the best bath tub gin in Hammond, Indiana. I also have a lot of funny family stories to put down for posterity.

In the meantime, while I have worked on a few poems, I will not be actively posting. My daughter will keep you posted on my health. I may be moving from my apartment, back into her home as my heart weakens. But, my thoughts are always with you and I thank each of you for stopping by.

Can it be, that you and I
Are ready now, to say goodbye?
And can the dreams we shared as one
Finally be over with, and done?

Can something wane that was so fine
As the deep love, like yours and mine?
The love we shared that was our song,
Just faded away until ‘twas gone.

I find it hard to believe it’s so,
That love like ours would cease to grow.
I saw our love growing deeper with time,
But your thoughts on love, were not as mine.

For you knew it wasn’t ever true
That you loved me, as I loved you.
And you knew you’d be untrue someday,
When love for me had faded away.

When love’s flame, that burned for me,
Flickered, then dimmed, and ceased to be,
You looked around for someone new
To kindle the fires of passion in you.

‘Twas then the story of You and I,
Came to an end – was allowed to die.
I should have known, from things you said,
That feelings for me had long been dead.

The signs were there, but I could not see,
For faith and trust had blinded me.
Abiding love made me believe
That you, like I, could not deceive.

Now there’s nothing, as our destiny nears . . .
No love to grow deeper, in autumnal years.
And it’s too late to start my life anew,
For the scope of my love, knew only you.

9/17/73 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

Who’s the little darling
Swathed in pale pink
Why, it’s Grandma’s latest treasure
An Angel, I think

Well, perhaps not an Angel
But, she sure is sweet
Cute as a button
And very petite

With her crooked grin
And that look of surprise
We’re all of one opinion
She’s quite a little prize

10/20/68 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

Granddaughter baked a cake last night
And topped it today with candlelight
Then asked the children to come near
She had a story for them to hear

A story about a Holy birth
When God sent His Son to earth
This is our Savior’s special day
She said, as they bowed heads to pray

There’d be no Christmas on this earth
Without our precious Savior’s birth
Let’s not forget God’s gift to man
And honor Him, whenever we can

The children then blew out the flame,
As they sang praises in His name.
Happy Birthday, Jesus, they sang out
In their efforts to be devout

I’m sure God smiled when He heard them sing
Pleased that they were remembering

12/15/89 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Written for the Cory family (Sharon and boys)

She’s Grandma’s little darling
And cute as she can be
A very special little girl
On that we all agree

Perhaps I’m somewhat prejudice
‘Cause that’s how Grandmas are
I think she’s sweet and wonderful
And our family’s latest star

There’s a simple explanation
And a nice revealing key . . .
She’s everything the books say
A little girl should be

She loves to look feminine
In ribbons, lace, and bows
She’s a real little lady
From her head to her toes

She’s coy and she’s impish
Yet, that dear angelic face
Is a clue to her sweetness
And to her charm and grace

She’s giggles and good humor
She’s all hugs and kisses
She’s bouncy blond pony-tail
With charm that never misses

She’s a precious little sweetheart
And I can promise this –
She’s blessed us with her presence
Like Heaven’s sweetest kiss

4/3/77 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

In a journal on my table
Beside my favorite pen
You will find revealing verses
Where only lines had been

I’ve filled the pages with the muse
That touches deep inside
And you can read what’s written there
When the book is opened wide

There is verse about my children
And some about my mate
There are even odes about my pets
And one about my weight

There are lines about my garden
And butterflies and birds
Deep rhymes about life’s symphony
In most expressive words

There’s muse about the sun and rain
And also winter’s snow
A poem about a rainbow’s arch
With its translucent glow

A sequined sky and harvest moon
That makes the heavens shine
And one about our U.S. flag . . .
All, from this heart of mine

God’s blessings fill some pages
And this is not a whim
For I would not be writing now
Without this gift from Him

This well-worn journal lying here
Fulfills a pleasant role
Recording slices from my life
From my heart and soul

10/24/01 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

THE ANGEL ON OUR TREE

There she reigns, with dignity
Atop our Christmas tree
The place of honor that’s been hers
Since 1943

And as I stand and gaze at her
The years just fade away
As the precious gift of memory
Recalls my yesterday

I see the mounting excitement
As the children gather near
While we make preparations for
The best time of the year

The tree, in nature’s beauty
Stands with outstretched arms
As little hands adorn her
With pretty man-made charms

And when it’s finally gifted
With tinsel, lights, and snow
It awaits the final treasure
Our Angel’s special glow

And so the Angel’s taken
And is handed up to me
For the childrens’ arms cannot reach
The tip-top of the tree

As I place her gently on the top
And Dad plugs in the light
The joy I see in the childrens’ eyes
Is such a lovely sight

And now, it is the present
The years have flown so fast
But our Angel is still with us
A token from the past

Her wings are bent a little
And dust has grayed her hair
Her gown is somewhat soiled and frayed
But still, she hovers there

Signature’s Of Love, I call
The smudges on her face
They were placed there by the children
Before I put her in her place

Her halo may have slipped a bit
But casts its golden glow
Down through the laden branches
Onto the ones below

And when it’s time to take her down
She’s packed away with care
For as long as we shall have a tree
Our Angel must be there

12/17/71 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Sorry I missed you today.
I waited for your return,
thinking it might be any moment.
I was there to tell you how sorry
I am that I allowed so much time
to pass between visits. I came
to tell you how much I love you,
and that I need you in my life.

I sat on your porch swing, where
we shared our laughter in days
gone by. It was quiet there,
and I thought I could hear
our voices from way back then.
I allowed my thoughts to drift,
as I was carried away in memory;
the heady scent of lilacs drugging
my contact with the present.

Perhaps I even dozed, awaking
when I heard you call my name.
I turned, but you were not there.
A butterfly hovered in front of my face,
as if it had something to tell me,
then turned and flew away,
as I heard your voice whisper,
“Goodbye, old friend”.

I learned later,
that you had passed away
that afternoon. A time that I was
wrapped in remembrance of you.
A time of lilac scent, butterflies,
and whispers on the breeze.

Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck – 8/27/03

I have no wealth to leave behind
But I give to you, the best . . .
Magnificence of the richest kind
From God’s great treasure chest

There’s summer sunset’s splendor
As it paints the heavens red
There’s diamond spattered night skies
And rainbows overhead
There’s dandelions that scatter gold
Across earth’s counterpane
The rippling of a drowsy stream
Near winding country lane
The blessing of a cooling breeze
On scorching summer days
Moonbeams through one’s window panes
And morning’s warming rays
The forest’s cooling canopies
That shelter woodland floor
Embracing life that dwells within
And, yes, there’s plenty more

There’s sweet melodic lullabies
That come from feathered choirs
There’s plains, desserts, and valley floors
And lofty mountain spires
A flash of red against the snow
When cardinals wing on by
And sapphire hues the bluebird flaunts
Against a cirrus sky
The scent of lilac’s rich perfume
That floats upon the air
And the evening’s orchestrations
Of insects singing there
The petaled beauty of a rose
With rich satiny feel
Where lady-bugs and butterflies
Enjoy a nectared meal

These things are mine to treasure
As long as I shall live
Yet, they belong to everyone
So they’re not mine to give

11/26/97 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

6′th. … Ark. W C – 2001

After she was gone
I found scraps of paper
everywhere.
Each piece torn
from whatever was at hand
when thoughts possessed her mind,
or touched her heart.
Little reminders
jotted down when senses
stirred her to capture
a piece of beauty
or a fragment of emotion.
Words, phrases, ideas
upon which she would
later elaborate.
Drawing from those small
scraps, pages of stirring
discourse that could make
one lose himself
in laughter, or touch
one’s heart to tears.
Those bits of written
emotion reflect how she
found beauty in everything,
and she comes alive
in the words
she jotted down
Musing about their value,
I could not destroy them.

In my closet upon a shelf,
there is a candy box
that holds her essence.
It is full of life and love
recorded on scraps of paper,
reminding me of her.
She was a poem.

2/5/93 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck