Things we’ve found
Things of beauty
Things chosen in haste
Things we’ll treasure forever
Things we let go to slip away
Things broken by their use or misuse
Things left behind, forgotten, unwanted
Things dreamed about yet never received
Things dreamed about that we’ve achieved
Things we never wanted but got
Things that rose up like weeds
Things we kept to appease others
Things we threw away
Things we’ve loved
Things we miss
NaPoWriMo—Day 9–Prompt: write a list of things
In the whole world
That He gave us a gift
The most precious gift He could
He gave us all His Only Son
Who died to save us all from our sins
And bring us all into eternal life
These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God. 1 John 5:13
Family united in birth or love
Aunts, Uncles. Cousins, Grandparents
Mother, Father, Brothers, Sisters
, In-laws, Steps Adopted
Loved friends. Pets,
Yourself in Christ (Eph 1:5, ) 2:19
Leona J. Atkinson 01-18-14
It’s done. It’s over,
The locks lay in piles on the floor.
The curls of contention,
Are no more.
Pushed to the breaking point,
He gave in.
He gave up the hair he loved,
And the dream he held within.
To conform to others wishes,
He put his feelings aside.
He became their new person,
While his real identity died.
Leona J. Atkinson 09-15-13
Dedicated to my grandson Dylan
Lilac! The sight of you is like the visit of an old friend.
Your fragrance brings back fond memories of childhood
days in May when you bloomed in my front yard.
We children would run and play while enjoying the scent
you surrounded us with.
Mother would let us pick bouquets of you to grace our table and
to share with neighbors who were not as fortunate to own a bush such as you.
Lilac, I loved you as a child,
and I still enjoy your purple splendor in my yard
and upon my table in May.
Leona J. Atkinson
I loved you once,
But no more.
My love for you is gone,
Like the setting of the sun,
And yesterday’s dawn,
It is gone.
Washed away by sorrow,
And empty promises of tomorrow,
It did descend,
Ne’er to come again.
Leona J. Atkinson 04-10-13