©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson
Come home to me, my child; come home.
Dance on the words of a mother's poem...
stepping-stars across the sky,
shining bright to draw you nigh,
spun from gossamer and love,
heart-notes sent to heaven above.
Dance on the words of a mother's poem...
stepping-stars across the sky,
shining bright to draw you nigh,
spun from gossamer and love,
heart-notes sent to heaven above.
Tiptoe through the rooms that knew you
while I whisper secrets to you.
Brush my soul with velvet fingers...
breathe a sweet goodbye that lingers...
then return, like fallen rain,
to the place from whence you came.
while I whisper secrets to you.
Brush my soul with velvet fingers...
breathe a sweet goodbye that lingers...
then return, like fallen rain,
to the place from whence you came.
Angel voices call your name.
∞§∞
Yesterday was Todd's birthday. He would have been 37. We miss him terribly, but (as ee cummings so beautifully suggests) we carry him in our hearts. We always will.
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