Oh those morning glories of my youth
how spritely open with grace they were
At 5 am when the sun yawned out
I quietly crept to the window to watch
It was the seventies and I was thirteen
my father had told me they would bloom
With my cold nose pressed against the pane
I watched dawn fall on a purple morning glory
it never failed to open like Father's love for me
Oh the faith I had in my Him,
so many years ago, before he went away.
MY DAD...WAS A HARD WORKING, UNIQUE SOUTHERN GENTLEMEN WHO LOVED ME AND, I KNEW HE DID. THROUGH THE YEARS HE'S OFTEN GIVEN ME TID BITS OF ADVISE WHICH ALWAYS PROVED TRUE AND HIGHLIGHTED HIS WISDOM. AFTER HE WENT AWAY...HE, LIKE MY MOTHER, WAS ONLY DREAMPT OF ONCE. MY FATHER WAS NOT A SINGER, BUT THERE HE WAS IN MY DREAM...STANDING TALL IN A WHITE SUIT SINGING THAT BELOVED HYMN 'BLESSED ASSURANCE'. UNTIL THIS DAY, THIS IS MY FAVORITE HYMN. THANK YOU MYSTIC, FOR USHERING IN HEARTFELT MEMORIES OF A BELOVED TREASURED BLESSING IN MY LIFE...A PERSON WHOM I LOVED AND TRUSTED, MY DAD. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...HIS+INSPIRATIONS
A poem with a dual purpose. Honoring both the glorious morning glory and your father.
Like you, I recall watching morning glories in the dewy morning dampness in my youth and found them to be so beautiful and perennial. I recall even planting morning glory in my past. But here in Texas, we do have flowers that close up over the hot nights to retain their moisture, and only open during the midday sun, like purslane and phlox. All to make sure that certain bugs, bees and butterflies find them so they can reproduce. Isn't nature grand!
Sadly, I cannot say that about my father. My mother, however, was my guiding light for many years. She made me aware of my gifts, and she taught me discipline and perseverance. Enjoyed your thoughts Vienna. Nice to see your name again. Peace.... r
Reviewed by JoAnne Cromp (Reader)
Reviewed on June 9, 2022
So deeply precious and sentimental. Hope your doing well these days Vie
TRUE STORY. Bella survived an abusive powerbroker father with organized crime ties, a drug-addicted mother and a physically/sexually abusive brother. Shocking & inspirational. When she couldn't cry, she tattooed a crying angel to cry for her.
Jamie was a healthy, active 12-year old who loved to skate and played hockey as well as any boy. Then one afternoon during a game, she suffered a stroke that changed her world. Her memoir takes the reader through her ordeal and her journey out of the
At the young of age of seven, Jill's mother Eve takes her for regular sessions to a child psychologist for treatment of her anxiety, which only makes her behavior worse. When she reaches her teens, she starts drinking and then smoking marijuana with
Then all bets are off. Thanks, MR.
Like you, I recall watching morning glories in the dewy morning dampness in my youth and found them to be so beautiful and perennial. I recall even planting morning glory in my past. But here in Texas, we do have flowers that close up over the hot nights to retain their moisture, and only open during the midday sun, like purslane and phlox. All to make sure that certain bugs, bees and butterflies find them so they can reproduce. Isn't nature grand!
Ron
Sandie
Young Ted loved the plants and flowers as much as you, Mystic Rose!
kenny