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Posts Tagged ‘toys’

UNTIL NEXT YEAR

‘Tis the evening of Christmas and in our old house
The snoring shakes windows . . . I speak of my spouse
He said he’s exhausted, though not one to shirk
He just looked on, as I did the work

I purchased and wrapped ….. ‘twas left up to me
Baked cookies galore and put up the tree
Now the kids are playing with a few old toys
The new ones are broken; so much for new joys

The floor is quite messy with boxes and bows
And discarded ribbons . . . along with new clothes
New puppy just did what puppies do best
He wet on the floor, his hourly quest.

The fireplace clogged – I was choking on smoke
My husband kept snoring and never awoke
The tree got knocked over – I cleaned up the mess
What happens next, is anyone’s guess

Hot chocolate spilled from a broken mug
And cookies got ground right into the rug
The turkey’s a carcass, the leftover’s, few
I’m left with the dishes, but that’s nothing new

And out in the kitchen where pans are piled high
I scrub and I scour, and I sigh . . . and I sigh
Am I tired? You bet! I’ve stayed up too late
So fell fast asleep with my face in my plate

We waited all year for this wonderful day
And I’m glad that the next one’s A FULL YEAR AWAY

11/22/95 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
(revised 12/02)

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THE LIFE I WOULD NOT TRADE

When I open closets of my mind
I find the greatest wealth
Wonderful memories from my youth
Now tucked upon a shelf

Although we were Depression poor
We never lacked for fun
For there were countless childhood games
And then, when we were done

We’d make some skillet-butterscotch
Its flavor can’t be topped
And sometimes we’d make great big bowls
Of corn we shelled, then popped

Our toys were few and simple then
With some of them homemade
But the fun derived from such toys
Left memories that won’t fade

Our fare was beans and cornbread
Soups and stews and such
But it all tasted wonderful
Because of Mama’s touch

We didn’t know that we were poor
Nor did we even care
We were happy with what we had
Living the word, share

Of course there were some rough spots
But we’d all rally ’round
In support of one another
No truer love was found

Our life was filled with happiness
And were the good times weighed
Nothing else would quite compare
To that life I would not trade.

9/1/91 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

2’nd … Indiana NPD 1991

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THE GOOD OLD DAYS

 

Was the taste of life sweeter

When I was just a kid

I believe there was more pleasure

In the simple things we did

 

Candy was more delicious

Than today, anywhere

And ice cream was a great treat

Because it was so rare

An orange in our Christmas sock

Was a very tasty treat

All of the oranges since that time

Could never taste as sweet

 

Toys were very simple then

Of wood, and metal, too

And they were really treasured

Because there were so few

A wooden top and marbles

A simple checker set

A composition baby doll

That didn’t even wet

 

I don’t recall getting bored

Like children of today

We always made our own fun

When we wished to play

There was Hopscotch and Jump-rope

And, of course, Hide and Seek

A continuous game of “You’re It”

Which carried on all week

 

Old inner-tubes were treasured

And the source of great fun

When cut into rubber bands

For a handmade wooden gun

There were roller skate scooters

Tin can walking-cleats

And wooden stilts for the brave

All, for childish feats

 

I’d like to step back in time

And greet it with a smile

Reliving joys of childhood

For just a little while

 

3/11/89    Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

2’nd … Indiana NPD 1999

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    CHRISTMAS PAST

 

If I could journey back in time

To Christmas of my past,

I’d gather up the happiness

And hold it very fast.

 

We didn’t have a lot back then,

But we were unaware

That others had more than us,

For we had much to share.

 

Each Christmas was a busy time

With many things to do,

And I look back in fondness,

Remembering just a few:

 

Making stars and paper chains

To compliment our tree,

Checking out our window panes

For frost etched tracery,

 

Hanging bread and suet balls

On branches that were bare,

Watching snowflakes coat the trees

As birds sought shelter there,

 

Running out,, all bundled up,

Enjoying winter’s gifts,

Snow-angels made by each of us,

And sliding down big drifts.

 

We’d all go in, after fun,

And have a special treat –

Hot cocoa near the old wood stove,

While warming hands and feet.

 

Beautiful carols filled the air,

Prompting us to sing.

There were gifts in colored tissue,

Tied with cotton string.

 

Mama’s words as she kissed us

And hugged us very tight,

“You’ve all been such good children,

Santa will come tonight.”

 

Then snuggling down under quilts,

Listening for Santa’s sleigh,

And drifting off in dream-filled sleep

‘Til early Christmas day.

 

Awaking to threadbare stockings,

Stirring children’s joy …

Filled with oranges, candy, and nuts,

And a small ten-cent toy.

 

Under the tree, for Sis and I,

Were dolls that Mama dressed.

Each piece of clothing sewn by hand,

Then each piece neatly pressed.

 

Big brother received a nice game

And strings for his guitar.

Little brother got marbles

And a cast iron car.

 

We could ask for no improvement

Of such heart-warming joy,

For we were more than satisfied

With candy and a toy.

 

If I could paint such memories

To help make them last,

I’d view them with a little smile

Each time that I walked past.

 

 

12/18/89      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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     HER PARENTHESES

 

The weeping willow is her world

Where boughs form a room.

The golden coins scattered about

Are dandelions in bloom.

As I peer through curtained window

She’s lost in make-believe,

And I watch in fascination,

The stories she can weave.

With dolls and toys as audience,

She acts upon a stage,

Fulfilling all the sweet dreams

Expected of her age.

Just now, she’s Cinderella

Dancing at the ball,

As she wears my old satin gown,

And heels to make her tall.

But soon she is a Fairy Queen

With sequined wings of blue.

As she waves a small magic wand

Her wishes all come true.

And next she transforms to a Bride,

Who’s dressed with greatest care,

With curtain as a bridal veil,

And flowers in her hair.

Once again she changes modes

And breaks into sweet song,

Pretending she’s a great chanteus,                       

But it doesn’t last too long,

For now she is a perfect Mom.

With motherly concern,

She feeds her dolls and beds them down,

With a kiss for each in turn.

I’m quite engrossed in her pretense                     

As I watch her fantasize,

But scenes are quick to fade from sight,

When tears caress my eyes.

I wipe my eyes for better view

Of her parentheses,

And I am saddened then to find,

It’s all just memories. 

 

2/22/96        Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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