At the end of every visit, as though it was the last time we would meet They gave a hug and say “Good Luck” then wave us down the street I looked back, see them both and then begin to pray… To hold a hand for sixty years and still want to be his friend
If there was a way to still thank them for the gifts they gave to us all There wouldn’t be talk of things in a box, for their gifts No, the gifts that they gave didn’t come wrapped in a bow But they came every day in the example she showed
The warmth we felt in Grandma’s lap while rocking in the sun Made a difference in our lives back when we were young Just hearing ” Grandma loves you ” while in the safety of her arms Was reassuring for a child to be protected from all harm
Grandpa’s greatest asset was his compassion for humanity A source of strength for those he knew, a pillar of the community Like the roses that he gardened, his family was his pride The lessons that he taught us today remain our guide
Sometimes my thoughts are taken to how and where and why And in my mind I paint a scene of a garden in the sky there’s Grandma and Grandpa and all who had gone before They are waiting for us all to come and receive our great reward
In this garden in the sky it’s the same as it has always been… Grandpa’s tending roses and Grandma’s tending him.
Mario William Vitale is a poet with over 1,000 toward his platform. Vitale was born October 23rd, 1970 in Bristol, Ct. Currently living in Wolcott, Ct where he helps as a care taker for his elderly handicapped mother Ann. Vitale is featured as a writer on Poetrysoup, Writerscafe & Allpoetry. Has a fan base on facebook with over 650 followers. He started writing poems in 1989 after the break up of his first girlfriend as a way to cope with life.
Sailing in thr ocean of thought, I was left with naught. Sun in water was sinking, My eyes sparkled without blinking. I was in the ocean’s core, Miles away from the shore. A wave flowed me away, With them a
As the sun dives into the beguiling sky And the darkness is about to smear the vault of heaven. The mind, then wanders the lonesome places. The moment , when the mollified region is filled with despondency. The night, then
As the day slips behind the cliffs On the far-off horizon Taking along its glorious lamp And all the warm sunshine The earth looks down wearied All hustle and bustle comes to close The world enveloped in darkness Retires to
Although tomorrow isn’t promised. Today was once tomorrow; Becoming yesterday. A depth often taken for granted. Consider waking up one of the most beautiful of arrangements. Perfectly gift wrapped and opened each time we blink. Eyes coming to full bloom