Childhood Memories of England (Reliving Old Christmas Posts)

Little Robin in Snow
As I write this, I am all grown up
But they still remain with me
The memories of England
Even though I’m all grown up

White Christmas, holly and cousins,
Presents and laughter
Seasons that change
And pocket money in tins

Sitting on Nana’s bed
So high in the air
Counting my fortune
Enough of that said

Snowdrops and daffodils
A baby lamb in my arms
Not soft like it looks
Squares of hay on the hills

Little thatched cottages
Rose gardens and rakes
Cobbled lanes
My life in different stages

But most of all
I remember the snow
The soft falling of snow
On our trees so tall

Snowmen and carrots
Mittens and gloves
Wellington boots
I miss them lots

But these are all memories
Hidden far away
And like a book
Can be opened
Day after day

Now I have my own children
And the present will be their memories
I hope they will be as special as mine are
Memories to draw on, when they’re women and men

But where I had snow
White Christmas and cold
I wonder what they will remember
And the places they will go

As long as they remember ……. love
Because that’s what I feel
With my memories
My childhood memories ……. love

A great big ship was looming in my future
That carried me across the seas
But my family was with me
So my memories stayed behind
Still ……. I brought them with me. A ten year old child.

© 2013 – present Liana Wendy Howarth

British Post Box in Winter

Each Precious Note Sent Heavenwards from Feathered Song

Each precious note sent heavenwards from feathered song, rises and completes nature’s symphony.

sparrow

photo courtesy of http://www.all-free-download.com

WARMTH OF THE SON
Summer’s here, the birds do chime
Flower’s blossoming, fragrant with time
Joyful laughter filling still air
The warmth of His Love, covering each care

Breathe in the beauty of heavenly sight
Hear little rosebuds sigh with delight
The dew of the morning strengthens within
Cleansed and healed by our glorious King

Oh! Sing all His children, babe or with grey
Dance with the timbrels on this bright, fresh day
Let all the trials and pains that do test
Find peace, grace and mercy, alone in His rest

(another poem from my e-book “Fragrance from the Spring”)

‘A Wounding Question’ in “Fragrance from the Spring”

A Wounding Question

Cascading waterfalls of tears in me dwell
And each little tear, I know very well
The tear it holds such pain or delight
And falling they frostily mist my eyesight

Each little tear is a cleanse made in Heaven
And pain, loss and grieving are lovingly given
For each wondrous tear in His bottle is caught
And He always sends joy after tears have been sought

Who else but the Lord knows all of our fears
All of our laughter and all of our tears
Nothing about us is ever unknown
He sends healing tears so new life will be sown

But although He hears us, directs us, leads us
Takes our hand and through turmoil or smiles shields us
Who throughout this glorious creation of His
Ever thinks …… WHO  CATCHES  THE  TEARS  THAT  HE  SHEDS?