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Rhyme-Tyme

Special Poems From My Heart

I wrote "In The Falling Summer Rain" when I was ten years old.   
Even though, all of my brothers and sisters are grown and most are grandparents, I don't want to change a thing.  My father was so proud when I wrote it.  I think he told everyone that he saw.

IN THE FALLING SUMMER RAIN

 

Oh my family good and bad,

they have spent many times together.

In our fathers house lies the history of our happy band.

Once each played here and paused off to hear the sweet rain,

that came and fell on the roof above,

In the falling summer rain.

 

"Betty" was the first born.

On the first lid smooth and fair,

I look with loving eyes at the tomb that bears your name.

Be careful eyes that never came.

Death stole her quietly away,

for she is the gentle summers rain.

 

"Roy" is the eldest of the boys.

He is the first child that you will see.

He was first to do things with a boyish pride

here lies hid are the histories of his farmers life.

And memories that were filled long ago,

In the falling summer rain.

 

"Roger" came next with a fair hand that passes through the night.

He was the first to tinker with cars with his mechanics hand.

Ah proud father of a gentle baby girl

with tiny shoes and little curls.

He is making memories of life to prance about in his heart

In his old age with the falling summer rain.

 

"Peggy" is the oldest daughter as you will see,

Who devoted herself to my fathers house.

With memories of the past and dreams for the future,

Now, she is starting a life of her own.

With a maiden hearts yearning to dance,

May her life be guided by the sweet falling summer rain.

 

"Lynda" with careful eyes that often seen

of a bridal gown and lines of a wife.

No toys of hers remain for all have been carried away

in their old age to join again in another small Lynda's play.

Proud mother of two girls, you will hear her singing

In the falling summer rain.

 

"John L" came next as you will find.

He carved things out with a boyish pride,

but now are covered with dust and worn by time.

A man who now is in his prime.

With songs that he often sung,

Long ago, on a rainy day in the falling summer rain.

 

"Carolyn" is the seventh child, well I know.

I look with loving eyes, for folded here with well-known care,

here there is another small gathering lies,

With four children of her own and a husband full of lies.

If you listen closely, you can hear her lullabies soft and low

In the falling summer rain.

 

"Billy Joe" came next a captain of a baseball team with a pair of mules.

His memories of the past are still sweet

but filled with dust and worn by time.

All are fastened and filed long ago in a cabinet in his house

fastened with his childhood pride.

He listens to the drops of the falling summer rain.

 

"Randy" is the youngest of the boys.

For nine long years, he was the baby.

He was the apple of his mothers eye.

He played with his match box cars, bats, and balls.

He still has some dreams that flows

As the wind blows the falling summer rain.

 

"Cathey" is the youngest of the ten.

Dreams of the future clearly written in her eyes

with half-written songs, poems, and stories so wild.

She loves to learn new things and teach others her knowledge.

A writer of this family memories is her destiny,

for she is the one that runs around in the falling summer rain.

 

Nine children not far from each other.

Nine brothers and sisters taught by their mother and father.

Oh when these hidden stories of ours lie open for our father's sight,

May they be rich in his golden hours.

Lives whose brave music long shall ring, like a spirit-stirring strain.

Souls that shall gladly be ours that sing

In the long sunshine after the rain.

Copyright 2004 Cathey McNabb

My Eyes Have Never Seen....

My eyes will never see a live dinosaur
Or even the hopes of seeing a saber-tooth tiger.
The dodo bird is gone forever.
The North American passenger pigeon will fly in the skies--not ever.
The hopes of seeing a dusky seaside sparrow is crushed.
From ashes to ashes and dust to dust, we were all made.
To ashes to ashes and dust to dust, we will all be laid.

These animals are gone forever;
They are on a famous list.
It is not because of what they did ever,
For the human eyes will see them never.
They are on the extinct list.
What species next will lay their weary heads,
For when they do, then they will all be dead.
If things do not change from the way they are now,
The human race may take a bow.

My eyes have never seen a live dinosaur,
Or even hope of seeing a saber-tooth tiger.
The things we take from Earth are really just borrowed,
For our names could be on this list--tomorrow.

Cathey McNabb
Copyright 2004 Cathey McNabb

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