I'm a greeting-card 'keeper'. I think I get it from my mom.
She called the other day and shared a chuckle from a card I drew for her YEARS ago!
These cards come from a box of my Grandmother's cards.
She left us long ago, as did Uncle Klaus, but echoes linger...
(funny where looking through cards for a Sunday-school craft can take us:)
When we reach that portal
Where, what is left of us
Are echoes, still mortal
Of dried ink-scrawls and dust
When we’ve left behind us
Grind of laughter and tears
And slip to the silence
Of death and yester-years
What piece of our heart, love
Will remain as the proof
That once we were part of
Time’s multitudes of earth
And what, when we gather
Where all living things must
Will morrow’s world harbor
Of dried ink-scrawls and dust
© Janet Martin
In this generation of click-read-and-delete,
what will remain of 'us'?
..what will they read?
It reminds us to leave tangible 'whispers' doesn't it?
Got to hang out with one of my favorite 'little guys' last night:)
