These are 2 of my favorite things I've written:
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Fond memories in the pumpkin patch with Henry,
white carpeting of snowflakes on the lawn. . .
shy giggling and frosty smiles abounding
as chirpy birds and squinty squirrels look on.
The photograph indelible as memory
I'm holding in an autumn sunburned hand
a whoosh of wind is rustling all about me
whispering of lost Octoberland.
Tiny hands upon the orange pumpkin
Wide-eyed eager laughter in the chill
Where's the boy who flew away to summer?
Tomorrow beckoned him to distant hills.
Every heart holds tight a fragile moment
tender to the touch and precious long.
Fond memories in the pumpkin patch with Henry,
whispering it's soft October song.
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A poem by Terry Walstrom
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The Goddess of the Green is in her garden
with hands of tan and wisdom in her spade
granting to each winter prisoner pardon;
there her tears and loving kindness laid
Amidst the sparrows, ants and prickly thistledown
she wields her spade and shadows fall away;
A smattering of butterflies come whistle down
the wind,
as each and every blossom finds the day
Cherishing each thirsty autumn seedling
as she kneels she sets her prayers to ground;
a chastened, sassy, winter weed clings
edgewise to her spade,
so Mother Earth's sweet womb shall soon abound.
The Goddess of the Green is in her garden
with eager hands she prunes what falls away
Life is only built upon what came along and now is gone
Till secrets of the heart have had their say.
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A poem by Terry Edwin Walstrom