It was only a silly old snapshot

And Mother had said, that day,

That she wished we wouldn't take it.

She wished we would throw it away.

The wind in her hair made it fuzzy

And the sun was bright in her eyes.

But, we were glad we had captured,

On film, one so camera-shy.

Often thereafter, we begged her

To let us try one more shot.

But, she was so full of excuses.

And later on, we just forgot.

Weeks slip away into seasons

And seasons, too soon, become years.

Life's silver thread is so fragile.

Passing brings so many tears!

But, I came, once again, 'cross the picture,

That she said we never could take,

And I'm thankful to God, up in Heaven,

She gave in, just for our sake.

For, the wind in her hair seemed so proper

And the sun gave a gleam to her eyes.

I treasure a dear piece of paper,

Remembrance of earth's finest prize!

Joan Clifton Costner
For my mother-in-law.
Copyrighted. All rights reserved.

The Library

All The pages are listed in the Library.


Awards Two


My Dreams

For My Mother