I probably shouldn't post this again but.... Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered weak and weary Over many a cold and omnous forecast in the newspapor, Suddenly, there came a dropping, as of rain so gently plopping, Softly falling, dripping, sopping, over heath and hill and moor. Tis not snow, at least, I muttered, not een looking out the door - Merely rain, and nothing more. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November And the deer had just dismembered all my plants (damned herbivores). Eagerly I wished the summer; winter, it is such a bummer Nary does one see a hummer* in the garden anymore. Though Grevillea victoriae blooms brightly as before, Rain, it keeps them all indoor. Presently my heart grew stronger, for the sound of rain no longer dripped and dropped and plipped and plopped as so incessantly before. Well! said I, A welcome ending to the rain so unrelenting! Now, before the chance eludes me, I had better go outdoors. For so many tasks awaited, miscellaneous lame chores - So I opened wide the door. Deep into that daylight glaring, long I stood there cursing, swearing, For now from the sky was falling snow, and not rain as before; Making not a sound they drifted, subtle, soft, by wind uplifted Flakes of whiteness now alighting fore the threshold of my door. Silence, it deceived me sorely; winter with its icy hoar Settled now its frigid score. Back into the kitchen breezing, closing door to keep from freezing, From the cold air briefly wheezing, pitching out the newspapor, For its forecast had deceived me, and the snow that fell now grieved me, Now I sat before the TV to discern what was in store. Now, said I, to get the latest bout this blizzard that doth roar, TWC** will know for sure.' But I soon became disgusted, finding they could not be trusted, For their forecast still suggested rain was all twould be in store. Surely, said I, Any schmo can look outside and see the snow That falls upon my garden so, though TWC ignore. So I cast aside the rèmote, snowy blast preparing for, Stepped once more outside the door. Now I knew the task before me, to protect these plants so warmly Lest they freeze and die, as in the frigid wintertimes of yore. So I labored, although vainly, for the snow had now quite plainly Covered stem and leaf completely, blanketing the garden oer. Yet into my heated greenhouse yet untouchèd by the hoar I hauled many plants, though sore. But the nighttime, eer foreboding, now upon me came in closing, Ere I knew it all was dark, and on the snow fell as before. And the wind now came up blowing, further worsening the snowing, While the temperture was lowring, so I had to get indoor, Lest the stinging crystals biting freeze my body to the core, So at last I went indoor. Now the garden, it lies frozen; Im regretting I had chosen Many plants not suited to this climate far from milder shore. And the memry of my losses gnaws upon me, while I tosses Fragments of the plants that froze upon the blazing heap that roars, Yes, a bonfire to dispose of all the plants that grew before - Now quite dead, forevermore. *Anna's hummingbird **The Weather Channel

And I miss my stepmother every day. She died April 8, 2004. My halfbrothers and I STILL brainstorm, when big stuff comes up, "What would Mom do?" I was blessed to have her for 46 years. And yes, OJ, I'm still trying to emulate her in how she dealt with life's traumas. She had a LOT of really big ones. But she always found something to laugh about. She continues to be my role mode, my anchor, my rock. She's very much alive in who I am, and thus, in who the 4 adult kids and 5 grandkids are. I miss laughing with her.

Penny, My dad died a few years before my wedding as well and 15 minutes after reading your poem I am still crying. He was my best friend and i miss him dearly. When i married, i chose a church that had this triangle window high up almost in the rafters at the front of the church. No one could understand why i picked this particular church it was small and old, i finally the day of the wedding revealed to my closest family and friends that it was so my daddy could see me nice and clear. I too would love to use this poem in my wedding album. It takes a big heart for a person to share their words, talent and ability so freely. As you can tell everyone thanks u greatly? Do u have any anniversary poems....my mom in law is standing over my shoudler asking me if u do ...she has to come up with something to say at her parents 50th? :) Thanks again

Thank you all so much for your help. I found the perfect poem... What Is A One-Year Old? A One-year-old daughter is so many things -- A tiny discoverer of butterfly wings, A hugger of Teddies, A sweet sleepyhead, And someone to dream for in bright years ahead... A special new person Who, right from the start, Has a place in the family And, of course, in your heart. And, just when you think That you've learned all the things That your dear Daughter is And the joy that she brings, A hug or a grin Comes with such sweet surprise That love finds you smiling With tears in your eyes! Of course, I found tons of other poems and page ideas. I'm so anxious now to start the next album!! Thanks again for your help. - Vee