I sometimes spend my time looking at photographs,
Some
are on walls, some in albums,
And
some are memories etched on my mind.
These
are memories of days gone by,
Of
Lazy afternoons,
And
rushed mornings,
Languorous
evenings,
And
fixed bedtimes.
Children's
home work and assignments,
Their
long stories and their short attention spans.
Mornings were rushed with
Uniforms
and bags, tiffins, and the unwanted milk,
Some
spilt and some deliberately thrown down the sink,
A
hoodwinking son, a naughty daughter,
Keeping
a lookout for that monster of a mum!
Oh
those luxurious days, which are now memories,
They
brighten my days, and keep my afternoon reverie,
My
evenings are spent waiting for the next day,
When
I shall walk in my garden and find my way,
To the plaque on my wall which has this to say,
"As you go through life
Take
time to smell the flowers".
This was a gift from my husband aeons ago,
Who
though miserly with words,
Has
always chosen what he wants to say.
That
plaque then just hung on the wall unread,
It's
now become my mantra for the day!
