Tuesday, January 24, 2012


My Mom is a survivor, 
Or so I've heard it said. 
But I can hear her crying at night 
When all others are in bed. 
I watch her lay awake at night 
And go to hold her hand. 
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach
That never was away... 
I watch over my surviving mom, 
Who thinks of me each day. 
She wears a smile for others... 
A smile of disguise! 
But through Heaven's door I see 
Tears flowing from her eyes. 
My mom tries to cope with my death 
By keeping my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows 
It is her way to survive. 
As I watch over my surviving mom 
Through Heaven's open door...
I try to tell her that angels protect me forever more. 
I know that doesn't help her... 
Or ease the burden she bears. 
So if you get a chance, go visit her... 
And show her that you care. 
For no matter what she says... 
No matter what she feels. 
My surviving mom has a broken heart 
That time 
Found this poem on Facebook today. 

Saturday, January 7, 2012


Butterfly Kisses aren't just for blankets.

How about a sweet, tiny baby gown?

My heart always aches when the feetprint are so tiny.  

Smaller than my finger to my second knuckle.

For the crocheted blanket?  
A hand stitched applique.  Momma can clip it off if she just doesn't like it...no damage!
  I just could not only do the gown!