My Love

Another one of my mothers writes. She was the original Valentine, born on Valentine's Day. Some have asked to see some of her writing. Kathie

                                     My Love

                  When evening comes at close of day,

                        And the grass is wet with dew.

                  And the crickets sing their little song,

                          I'll be thinking dear of you.

                  When autumn comes with chilly breeze,

                      And summer days are past.

                  When golden leaves drop all around,

                          I'll love you till the last.

                   When snowflakes fall upon the ground

                       And the robins sing through song.

                    While the days grow dark and lonely,

                          Sweetheart, for you I'll long.

                   Then when springtime comes again

                           And flowers bloom so bright.

                 And the trees put on their dress of green,

                              I'll think of you at night.    

                     In summer, winter, spring or fall;

                         My thoughts shall be of you.

                 And the love light in my eyes shall shine,

                          Just like the morning dew.

                             Josephine A. Vanderhoof

                             {The original Valentine}

Reviews

[Gee]

That is such a well written poem. A talented mother, this talent passed through the genes to her daughter

[Valentine]

Gee, she wrote for a Detroit paper, and yes, I am somewhat like her. I wrote for the Batesville Guard in Arkansas. Many of my poems were printed there in the Lets Chat column.Kathie

[Paul Bell]

Time for remembrance Kathy. Which is a good thing.

[Valentine]

Paul, most of her writes were passed out among the 9 children when we lost her. Over the years it is hard to get the others to remember where they put them. I just pray it wasn't in the garbage. Kathie

[Paul Bell]

When you're not looking for them, you'll find them.

[An owl on the moon]

What a beautiful, loving glimpse through the eyes of your dear mother. Each moment, each season, in every way there is a remembrance.

[Valentine]

My mom read poems to me very young. She said at 2 or 3 I was all ready rhyming words. I just inherited her gift I guess. She also played many different instruments by ear. Wish I had inherited that gift. Kathie