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Posts Tagged ‘diary’

MY BUTTERFLY

I walked into her bedroom
Just the other day
And saw the stages of her life
In careless disarray

I stood there in the doorway
And with nostalgic sighs
I viewed the contradictions
Spread before my eyes

Around the room where Nursery Rhymes
Once hung upon the wall
Are posters of recording stars
I cannot list them all

But still in place of honor
In a small golden frame
Are Cinderella and her Prince
Of Fairy Tale fame

And over in the corner
Her dolls lie in a pile
She has not yet forsaken them
But will, in just a while

Lying adjacent to the dolls
And scattered on the floor
Are several current 45’s
And several things more

There are stacks of old comic books
And romance novels, too
Some bubble-gum wrappers
And a valentine or two

A sad bedraggled Teddy Bear
Now wears upon his pate
A dried and faded corsage
From a chaperoned date

Hanging on her bulletin board
Is a treasured little toy
And tacked right next to it
Is a note from some young boy

On a messy closet shelf
This is what I see
Skates, a game, an old jump-rope
Her diary, with its key

And tangled in among them
Is a blanket (pink and gray)
It once meant security
So she can’t throw it away

A lipstick lies upon her desk
And nail polish, too
There’s clasps to hold her hair in place
In shades of pink and blue

Her clothing is a mixture
Of pre and early teen
Her moods, in fact, dictating
In which she will be seen

She likes her pretty dresses
But loves the latest fad
So more and more, she leans that way
And it’s jeans in which she’s clad

Her room is a chrysalis
Where tot transforms to teen
And yet, there’s changes still to come
More transition to be seen

When comes the time that she matures
And my butterfly flies away
I’ll treasure memories of each stage
That saw her on her way

2/12/61 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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  PAGES FROM A DIARY

 

Today is my sixteenth birthday

He gave me this book and a rose

Then he blushed and gave me a hug

And he kissed the tip of my nose

 

Today I’m eighteen, a woman

I wondered if he would propose

Then he gave me a diamond ring

He’d placed on the stem of a rose

 

Today is the day I’ll marry

And he didn’t forget a rose

It is in my wedding bouquet

With the yellow ribbons and bows

 

Today I gave birth to a son

And he’s perfect from head to toes

He pinned to the baby’s blanket

The most beautiful fragrant rose

 

This is my eightieth birthday           

As always, he gave me a rose

But I doubt there’ll be another

For I feel my life’s near a close

 

               ~ ~ ~

 

She’d be eighty-one today, he wrote

She left me in April, last year

I planted a bush by her headstone

So she’ll always have roses near

 

9/10/90 – Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

3’rd … PAW (in Pa) 1990

2’nd … Indiana NPD 1995

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THE COLOR BLUE

 

Blue box that has an open lid

            Blue ribbon peeking out

Blue letters that the ribbon tied

            Hold frequent words of doubt

Blue pages fill her diary

            Blue memories on her mind

Blue tears once filled her broken heart

            For love o’er which she pined

Blue paper, torn and faded now

            Blue words she penned in rhyme

Blue flowers now pressed dry and flat

            Came from a grievous time

Blue shawl that keeps her shoulders warm

            Blue shadows ‘neath her brow

Blue eyes so lively in the past

            Are clouded over now

Blue robe across her aching knees

            Blue clasp in thin white hair

Blue veins in her old wrinkled hands

            That hold the box with care

                           

“Blue isn’t just a pretty hue,”

            She whispered of her past

Then slipped away to death’s blue deep

            The blue box closed, at last

 

12/17/89    Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

5’th … Indiana NPD 1990

2’nd … Paw (in Pa) 1991

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