Sunday, November 22, 2009


Did you ever waken in the night
And find your thoughts like flowers
Suddenly in bloom?

The lovely things you've yearned to share
Like roses climbing on a wall,
Might finally scale the barrier that breaks communication
With those you hold most dear.

Then morning comes.
The time is never right.
They are not listening.
The clumsiness of language binds your tongue.
The careful words you fashioned in the night
Would sound silly to them now.

One by one the petals fall away;
The fragrance disappears.
It was lovely while it lasted,
But it was never shared.
The bloom is gone.
You shed a silent tear.

Is it forever lost?
Did it bloom in vain?

Remember, it did blossom,
And where a flower grows--
Seeds follow.

Another time
You'll be more aware of them:
Their finer qualities,
Their needs,
The tender spots that they protect by rough exterier shells.

And sometime--
They might want to share

Lydia T. M. Sorensen (no date)

May I share this with you?
With love,

I do not remember receiving this. It was in an envelope with my name on it. It was probably directed towards me although not necessarily as I think Mama felt this way about Daddy and perhaps some of the other kids as well. There were times in my teenage years she would write notes to me instead of talking to me because I wouldn't listen. I didn't particularly appreciate the notes at that time. Also, she could have written it while I was in the midst of my troubled marriage or the adjustments and difficulties following the divorce.

1 comment:

  1. I didn't know Grandma was a poet...That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing!