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I’ve always thought that little girls are so very sweet like honey,
But when they get older they always require a lot of money.
Nevertheless, they are certainly worth every single little dime,
As they give you all of their fine love every minute of your time. Continue reading
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I found this old poem in my wife’s fathers old things,
He may have written the poem about what life brings.
It sounds a lot like some of the things he used to say,
So I am sharing it with you all on this very fine day. Continue reading
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Norman Cornelius Kendrick was my Mother’s older brother,
That makes him my uncle with very similar genes to my mother.
This poem is just an overview of Uncle Norman from those days,
From before my birth until he reached old age and passed away. Continue reading
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When I was a young boy being raised by my Mom at home,
She used some strange words that were originated on her own.
Later when I met Pam’s Mom, she had a few I learned then too.
So this poem discusses just a few Mom words from those two. Continue reading
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I have a soft spot in my heart for little girls that are truly a joy,
Pam and I had two beautiful girls when we were looking for a boy.
We loved those little girls from heaven with all our heart and soul.
Kristi and Tamara fulfilled all of our dreams as they did grow. Continue reading
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My Mom often rocked me to sleep when I was a very young boy,
As she rocked, she sang me sweet songs with her angel voice.
This poem reviews those songs she sang to me that I loved so,
Sometimes I think I can still here her singing so soft and low. Continue reading
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Old Pappy liked his music just like most normal people often do,
So occasionally when he was in a good mood he sang some too.
This poem reviews that side of Dad that not many people knew.
Because he never sang in public perhaps for fear of bad reviews. Continue reading
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My Dad had a brother when he was young that was named Dean.
This poems passes on the only memories of Dean that I have seen.
I have Dean’s Purple Heart received by his mother after his death,
Passed on to me by my Dad to preserve a memory not wealth. Continue reading
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We lived in a company house in Phillips, Texas, as I grew up,
We never ate out so my Mom cooked every meal for us to sup.
She had a very small kitchen, but it was equipped very well.
This poem recalls the tools she used to cook there by her self. Continue reading