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Frank P Whyte

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Books
· Remedies of Choice

· Hearts of Gold


Short Stories
· Limestone and Sycamores

· The Unwrapped Gift

· The Hand of Fate

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· So You Think You Want to Write a Novel

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· Thursday Afternoons With My Lord

· Christians on the Road

· The Days of Plenty

· You to Me

· And it was Only a Dream

· Honesty

· Promise

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· Patience's Ways

· In the Garden of God

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As Andrea Comes of Age

by Frank P Whyte — Read all 321 poems by Frank P Whyte

This is an early birthday present for my oldest daughter (my 200th poem on Authorsden). For her younger sister; sit tight, yours will be along shortly.

Monday, January 28, 2008


Poem Artwork

Have you looked into the mirror lately?
You would be surprised, my dear, I am sure,
For you are the picture
Of a precious soul,
And you bring joy to the lives that are near.

I remember still the conversation,
Although today,
It feels like another life,
For you were young,
And had tears in your eyes;
You seemed not to comprehend,
The lesson that I had to impart.

You were born a child of privilege.
It was a role that you enjoyed above all others,
Especially in winter,
As you lay in the sun,
On a beach just north of the equator.

To provide for you,
I worked long hours,
Just to get ahead of the game,
And to bestow upon you,
Special favors,
For I wanted you to have the best of all…
And then I wanted for you a bit more.

You and your sister
Are the lights of my life.
The same is true today,
And even in my darkest hour,
Thoughts of you
Can sustain me still.

Do you remember
The day that I told you,
That to give brings the greatest joy?
And for my part,
I’ll never forget,
The disbelieving look that I saw in your eyes.

I supposed that it was really my fault,
In fact, I KNEW that I was to blame.
You appeared to have grown
Into a self-centered brat,
Much to my everlasting shame.

You wandered away
To the Pacific Northwest,
And I wondered how you would ever survive.
At that time you had
So little regard for me,
You didn’t even call to tell me you had arrived.

You didn’t call or write
For several years,
You blamed me completely
For your loneliness and tears,
But it wasn’t long
Until you had grown to be a woman.

When you called to say
That you wanted to see me,
I wondered what I would find,
And soon I knew,
When I looked into those eyes,
That kindness had found its way
To your soul.

It was hard for me to draw a breath,
As I absorbed the magnitude
Of the change,
And the more that I learned
Of the woman you had become,
The greater that my joy became.

You are one of my greatest treasures.
You are poetry in motion,
To me.
You are the best friend
That your friends will ever have.
And you bring truth to the long-held notion,
That it IS truly better,
To give,
Than it is to receive.



For my beautiful daughter, Andrea, of whom I am so very proud.

 



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Reviewed by Charlie
Reviewed on January 28, 2008
Gosh, if Frank says you're like poetry, then that is a huge-- I mean WAY huge compliment. Because, I find Frank's poetry very beautiful-- the subltle rhymes, the meaningful phrases. That's how his poetry is. So that would mean that you, Andrea, are not overbearing-- but have beauty, and subtlety, and meaning. Congratulations on your upcoming birthday! --Charlie

Reviewed on January 28, 2008
Frank,

Beautiful, beautiful gifts you give: love, pride, and your words. I wish I was your daughter! Since I am not, may I live vicariously through this poem? It moved me to tears. Thank you. Well done.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

And happy birthday to your Andrea.


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