Childhood Revisited

Childhood Revisited

Bobbe, of the gentle mien

And ever giving spirit.

If we called her “angel bright”

Me thinks she would not wear it.

She had a constancy I craved

Challenges did not daunt her

But as a slightly rounded teen

She wondered who might want her.

She loved her friends

And served them well

(She trusted most her God)

Her anguishes she hid from us

Her God was who she’d tell

I wish I’d stayed

Close by her side

To drink the balm

Which she’d provide

To be there when her

Mother died

To cheer her on

And hold her hand

And whisper “Dear, I understand.”

I wish I’d been there

For her too

I wish I’d shown so she could see

Just what her love has meant to me

She’s been a mom, a wife, a sister

She’s nurtured the neighbors

And encouraged the mister

She’s served pastor and parish

With skill and affection

And to dozens of grandkids

Given food and protection

She’s cared for us all

With her hand and her heart

In our lives she’s a gift

A most vital part

For she inspires us each to be

More than we think by ourselves than we can

Sometimes we forget that she’s really just human 

A symbol of her Gods’ most refreshing creation

This humble and soulful and beautiful woman

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