My Oldest Poem
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As we were digging through that old trunk of ours,
I found an old hand written paper nearly faded out.
It was an old hand written poem from the year 1982.
As Pam read it, I recalled writing it a day when I was blue.
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My Oldest Poem
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It was on a 1982 December Sunday morning, I say,
Pam and I had argued about going to church that day.
She had dressed the girls nice and left for church,
Leaving me home feeling sad as my soul I did search.
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I decided to write Pam a poem to explain my feelings,
So she would perhaps understand why I was reeling.
So I sat down at our table in Houston that morning,
And wrote the poem I called “Pam’s Song” with no warning.
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Reproduced below is the poem that I wrote that day,
Expressing my thoughts to help Pam see with no delay.
Writing the poem down helped me feel better then,
And I hoped Pam would also feel better once again.
Our family picture taken very near the time I wrote the poem.
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“Pam’s Song
Dedicated to Pam Low
From her husband Bill
Written December, 1982
December 18, 1982″
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“As I sit here thinking this Sunday morning,
Must I go to church to get to heaven?
Should I heed the preacher’s warning?
What does it take to be worthy of saving?
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Don’t I feel guilty when I have done wrong?
Don’t I always give more than I receive?
I feel I must write you, Pam, this song,
So you will know what I truly believe.
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What makes a child know wrong from right?
Is It the church or the family life we provide?
I feel that it must be the guiding light,
That we must give at home by their side.
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Some churches claim that you must attend,
Their services alone to get into heaven above,
I can’t believe that they all pretend.
This could be true, if they knew God’s true love.
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The church is a place for God’s children to gather,
And study his ways to make things better,
Don’t we do that at home when we’re all together,
Yes, our home is the church for all that matters.
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The church of today has been commercialized.
They ask for our money to give to the poor,
Yet, the preacher drives Cadillacs and the like,
Is this what God intended as the key to his door?
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What matters to me is Kristi, Tamara, and you,
I think that when our time is here,
We will all meet in heaven so true,
So I’m looking forward to seeing you there.
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I hope you know now just how I feel.
And understand now why I don’t go to church,
My beliefs to me are very, very real,
And of our family, I feel I will meet our Maker first.
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So when I go, I want you to rejoice,
Please don’t be sad and mourn for me,
But rather sing happy songs with loud voice,
In celebration of what is waiting for me.”
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“Your Loving Husband,
Bill
Written from the Heart,
Just for Pam
‘To thine own self be true,'”
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We put all that stuff back in that old trunk just today,
And we found a few more little things along the way.
There was a bracelet Tamara made as a young girl,
That she wore often as she was discovering her world.
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Pam’s 14 karat gold necklace and baby ring so fine,
Were one of the last treasures in there we did find,
Pam pulled it out and moved it to her jewelry box,
As it was a fine piece of jewelry when she was a little fox.
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Finally, there were three hospital baby bracelets there,
They were Pam’s, Kristi’s, and Tamara’s all so fair.
From the size of the arm fit, it was very plain to see,
That all three of them were just as cute as could be.
Pam on left, Kristi in middle, and Tamara on right.
By Bill
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Thanks for reading My Oldest Poem,
Bill