I’ve been thinking of how quickly time slips away, leaving us surprised that our children are no longer babies, and, in fact, have babies of their own! This poem was written by my Aunt, Sherrel Burgoyne:
An old photo
lovingly folded in a apron pocket
cared for too much
looked at too often
until the creases of love
became cracks
and try as I tried
I cannot restore
child of joy
splashing in water and sun
I want to believe
every day on this earth was happy
every dream that you dreamed came true
laughter and love followed your life
where did you go
did you slip into one of the cracks?
