His eyes- how they twinkled!
His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses,
his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth
was drawn up like bow,
And the beard on his chin
was as white as the snow;
"Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow."
from Leaves, by Elsie N. Brady
Hardy little flowers
Like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health
By their mother's door:
Purple with the north wind,
Yet alert and bold;
Fearing not and caring not,
Though they be a-cold.
Sometimes we see beautiful images, and sometimes we know beautiful people. Such a person was Richard who passed away earlier this week at the age of 56, of Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease. He had a cheerful smile for everyone, and that's how I remember him. When I came across this chalk drawing, I thought of him.
There was a crooked man
and he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence
against a crooked stile;
He bought a crooked cat
which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together
in a crooked little house. Nursery Rhyme