The chain is ours to weave

          THE GOLDEN CHAIN

 

The precious threads of memory

          That link us to the past

Become a treasured Golden Chain

          That time cannot outlast

 

For time but serves to strengthen

          And adds to that Golden Chain

As memories, long forgotten

          Are remembered once again

 

God gave the gift of memory

          But the chain is ours to weave

Its strength, its length, its beauty

          Is what we must then achieve

 

Repay the precious gift He gave

          With the very best of you

Weave your chain with links of love

          As God would have you do

 

For each deed done, rewards you with

          A link that you retain

And also adds a link or two

          In another’s Golden Chain

 

So treasure every happy link

          Each poignant golden thread

And lovingly link those gone before

          With those that lie ahead

 

11/12/67        Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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Hidden memories

       MEMORIES

 

In the closet of my memory

Tucked away on a shelf

Are memories that I’ve hidden

Yes, even from myself

 

It’s best to let them rust away

From salty tears once cried

By letting them lie undisturbed

In corners where they hide

 

So they’ve gathered dust since placed there

And are crowded to the wall

By memories worth reviewing

That I polish with recall

 

4/10/85                Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

 

 

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My Memory

THAT’S WHAT MAKES A MEMORY

 

I have no mind for fine details

I don’t think that’s so bad

I can’t remember dates and time

But just emotions had

 

I can’t remember what you wore

The first time that we met

But I remember your sweet charm

And your smile’s with me yet

I don’t remember where it was

I saw a mockingbird

But I’ll remember always

The lovely song I heard

 

I don’t remember where we went

To view an autumn scene

But I won’t forget God’s palette

Of reds and golds and green

The day I hiked a wooded trail

Is lost, as far as date

But not the smell of scented pines

Or the wild fruit I ate

 

I can’t remember verse or words

Of songs Mom sang for me

But the soft sound of her sweet voice

Lives on, in memory

The dates of childhood illnesses

Are all forgotten now

But I won’t forget the feeling of

Mom’s hand upon my brow

 

I can’t repeat the headlines

The day that I gave birth

But the memory of the joy I felt

Is the sweetest on this earth

Yes, I do forget the details

 

And distance, time, and names

But everything that touches me

Is a memory that remains

 

Friendliness, love, and tenderness

A sound, a taste, a sight

That’s what I remember well

And for me, that=s quite all right

 

3/8/90 –  Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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In memory of my son, David VanVleck 07/24/42 – 11/07/90

A SOUL RETURNS TO GOD

 

The Lord said, “Come. It’s time to go.

To leave this bed of pain.

I know that those you leave, will weep

With tears akin to rain.

But if they understood, Son,

They’d wipe away their tears,

For I just lent your soul to earth,

And shared you all those years”.

 

“You used those years well, my child,

And I’ve been pleased with you.

You lived a life that fostered love,

Just like I knew you’d do.

When those you leave, dry their tears,

They’ll soon become aware

That part of you remains behind;

They’ll find you everywhere”.

 

“You’ll be with them in memory

Of all the things you love,

Like eagles soaring on the wind

And sunset skies above.

In prairie sweep and mountains high,

Along a forest path.

In whispers of a gentle breeze,

In summer rain’s warm bath”.

 

“And in the human attributes

That stirred your soul while here.

Such as kindness, love, and laughter,

These things will keep you near.

And those you love, still here on earth,

Will see you once again,

When their turn comes to leave the earth,

You’ll be together then”.  

 

The Lord took David’s hand in his

And whispered to his soul,

“Come now, to your heavenly home.

You’ve filled your earthly role.”

 

1/27/91     Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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The sentence of Alzheimers

HER PRIVATE HELL

 

She sat there in her rocking chair,

her vacant stare

disturbing me.

Her memory

so full, before a dread disease

had made thoughts cease.

Thoughts past recall,

as if a wall

had somehow blocked the view inside,

before she died.

Her private hell,

that empty shell.

                                     

4/12/92       Phyllis DeWitt -VanVleck

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Whispers in my Mind

WHISPERS IN MY MIND

 

I heard her rocker creak today,

But not a soul was there.

The wind had rocked her chair.

Sometimes I think I hear her pray,

And I am sad to find,

Just whispers in my mind;

Gems my memory tucked away.

 

9/4/95          Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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