Daughters

I think when God formed the rose bud
And filled it with morning's dew,
When He arched the rainbow above me
And touched it with delicate hue,
When He made the freshness of springtime,
The softness of clouds above,
He thought of creating a daughter
To send to a mother to love.

For a daughter's the fragrance of summer,
That lingers the whole year through,
She's the sweetness of cherished moments
The delicate pinks and blues.

She is pure as the clear rippling waters,
The music the soft breezes play.
She borrowed her smile from the angels,
As they kissed her goodbye that day.

For there's a bit of heaven about her,
And heaven shall always be
Close to my heart - to have and to hold -
Because He sent her to me!

February 25, 1976

Orvetta's thoughts: I'm sitting alone at my kitchen table this morning. The school bus just took the last two and somehow my home seems very silent - silent enough to allow thoughts and memories to come creeping in. The sky through my window shows a quiet gray this February morning. It too, sets the mood for peace, tranquility, and remembering.

I am carried back to you as a little girl - bouncing soft hair, laughter and busy, happy days. It is strange when one remembers back how vivid the joys and good things become. It is pleasurable and heartwarming just remembering. There are no real upsets nor disappointments to recall because you never placed any there.

Just remembering has caused these words to grow together.