ETCHINGS

Oft times I cant remember where I took my glasses off,
So I sputter as I mutter that my memory's going soft;
But, Lord, I'm awed with wonder as I'm brought face to face
With soul-refreshing memories that time dare not erase.
I hear the tinkle of the book alongside a woodland path,
When, echoing on zephyr wings, comes little Lizbeths laugh.
Her eyes, blue as the violets on that long-gone springtime day,
Look back at me, unfailingly, when April turns to May.
Cousin Matt skips on ahead, as he is two years older,
Picks nosegays each for Beth and me, then hides behind a boulder!
When sunshine shimmers on the surf along a sea swept shore,
Her dainty dimples dart and dance as Lizbeth smiles once more.
As fireflies flicker midst the mist when summer twilight falls,
A million myriad memories come flickering o'er the walls.
They take me back to yesteryear with its delight and glee
On a woodland walk with Lizabeth when she was not yet three.
Although were not together now--were many miles apart
The happiness of bygone days will flourish in my heart.
So, Lord, perhaps I do not need my glasses, after all:
Your love revives my reverie in realms of rare recall--
A love so everlasting-strong that nothing can appall--
And I relive those precious days when Lizabeth was small.

-- Helen J. Ewoldsen -- 6/16/96