Diary, musings on life, people, interests. Posting my poetry

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Location: Lacey, WA, United States

I have a Certified Artist/Teacher degree with the National Society of Decorative Painters. Taught decorative painting, color theory, calligraphy and other art related classes for 12 years. I enjoy using my artistic talents, especially to update furniture and repurpose found items. I am married to the world's most wonderful husband. We celebrated our 48th anniversary this year (2016). We have raised six children, three boys, three girls. Have 10 grandchildren. Through the NSDP I have paintings in the White House, Blaire House and Smithsonian Institute. I was given the honor of being the Chair of the Pacific NW, "Breeze and Brush" Decorative Painting Convention. What fun we had! I like keeping healthy and enjoy life. I love humor and people. God has been good to me!

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Emma's poem, Trees, March 2011

This is our ten year old granddaughter, Emma holding her, much loved, Pullip dolls from Korea. Pullip, in Korean, means 'Young leaf'.

Emma is a wonderful young lady and is a lot of fun to be around. She is a great conversationalist and has a great sense of humor. She has been taking a writing class at school and enjoys it very much.

She came home a few days ago and handed a poem to her mother. Amy read it and said "is this something they had you do in your writing class?" Emma explained that it wasn't done in writing class, she just got bored and decided to write something.

I think it is a beautiful poem and was touched by the obvious talent she has for expressing herself in poetry. I asked if she would let me post it on my blog and she consented. So here is Emma's poem about trees. Good job Emma!

Written March 2011

Trees are the kindest things I know,
They do no harm, they simply grow,
And spread a shade for sleepy cows,
And gather birds among their boughs.
They give us fruit in leaves above,
And wood to make our houses of,
And leaves to burn on Halloween,
And in the spring, new buds of green.
They are the first when days begun
To touch the beams of morning sun.
They are the last to hold the light,
When evening changes into night,
And when the moon floats in the sky,
They hum a drowsy lullaby.
Of sleepy children long ago,
Trees are he kindest things I know.