Pitter patter of little feet
Running around so happy
At every age a blessing too
As they learn so do you
Reading a fable of their choice
Hearing excitement in a voice
Watching them learn about life
Seeing the world through new eyes
Homemade cards with handprints
Touching your heart you lament
They will grow up from lap to arms
You never get enough of their charm
And you look forward to their growth
Off to college eager excited with hope
Empty nest but full heart of love
Watch them fly high as white dove
After they graduate you feel pride
Reflecting how fast life goes by
Month of the child celebrating
How much we love our offspring
The joy this Christmas will come from
The celebration of being alive,
And avoiding strife.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
The written word,
Not the presents scored.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
From bullets dodged,
Not complaints lodged.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
Playing the role of a kind stranger,
And looking out for a neighbour.
The joy this Christmas will come,
From listening for the patter of little feet,
And not the police on the beat.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
Playing music that is sweet,
And paying compliments to all in a tweet.
The joy this Christmas will come,
From pardons granted,
And new friendships started.
Fill my cup from little streams...with real joy -
a tiny bud that blossoms to flower,
its petals iridescent with dewdrops,
my garden of joy is full this moment.
Fill my cup from little streams...with music -
the language of angels dancing on clouds,
the tune set to the beauty of God’s world,
my soul flies to the heavens enraptured.
Fill my cup...with fall’s magical colors -
a rainbow splashed over the forest turf,
and when I glance up across a clear sky,
a palette of hues are mine to paint with.
Fill my cup...with sounds of children laughing -
the patter of little feet running wild
around a fountain gurgling clear water,
they are playing “catch me” with each other.
And my cup is full to overflowing,
I breathe content, no sorrows will disturb
my peace of mind, no nightmares to strangle
my soul, as I lay down to sleep smiling.
@jjote 04022021
Oh, carry me down to our beloved riverside.
Let's lay on the sweet grass and just abide.
To soak up the sun, through our tender young skin.
And think of the phenomenal world we live in.
~Yet, aging stalks in silence and will take our youth away.~
Let's dream of our lightness of being in this now.
Dream about out our future family and home, anyhow.
In a city, small, with winding-treed streets.
And the cherished patter of little feet!
~Yet, aging stalks in silence and will take our youth away.~
In this glorious moment exists silken happiness and bliss.
You know, my deepest love, the joy you bring with a fervent kiss.
The monarch butterflies flap their wings in such joy.
Seeing the great happiness of a girl and her boy.
~Yet aging stalks in silence and will take our youth away.
I love this engagement ring, see its colors dance in the sun.
Our life together will be lovely, I already see it done.
Children we will have, how about four?
Oh, you're so silly, you want more?
~Yet~aging stalks in silence and takes our youth away!~
10/8/2020
7pm PST
Cottonwood and royal pine, majestic oak and fields of wheat
All you hear are birds, and the pitter patter of little feet
The smell of lilac fills the air, dirt roads far as one can see
Just beware of certain flowers and the stinging bumble bee
A cornucopia to run and play, safe and free from harm
There is no place I would rather be, than right here on this farm
This is my sanctuary, so many often wonder why
I’ll always love the country, it’s where I live and where I’ll die
I am thankful of this piece of ground, and all that I can see
Our life is what we make it, don’t let regret take hold of thee
August 17, 2020
The best medicines
Its cold and the sky today is gray
no squawking in the sun from the young blue jays
I hear the pitter— patter of little feet
and wonder if it is my little friend gray squirrel
that each day in hidden places he seeks
all the seeds, nuts and corn snacks I leave
suddenly a black crow appears dark and shadowy
pounding on the shed the stolen sunflower seeds
a sinister creature that looks like he carries death
but with little paws snibbling at corn and nuts
quietly near the white railing sits my little friend
with puffy tail curled up — the very best of medicines.
It was a Thursday the first time we "met"
Just like today except two score and three
Nearly two years from the time our eyes first beget
Who could have imagined what our lives might be
The pitter-patter of little feet
The hurrahs of victory, the agony of defeat
Tears of pain and tears of joy
The honor and pride of raising three boys...
Now men.
The triumph of staying married ...with poise
Amen.
Being witness to the birth of our baby girl
And being there for her in her young adult world
Defining and redefining love and being in love
And realizing our years have been blessed from above
For it is not only an equation of you and me
There's our wonderful children for all to see
Lives that could never be the same , if not at all
Because the cosmic forces of Nature and God
Saw to it that we found each other...
And Love.
Copyright 2016 Iger Rolyat All Rights Reserved
My Special Gift
It's hard to see my life without my son
He's just three and already has a personality
My heart is full, just having him around
This child, a Special Gift of mine
~
His young character, a demanding and passionate one
The innocent questions, the changing facial expressions
A thank you or a good night kiss
Warms my heart, this Special Gift of mine
~
The sounds of laughter and the patter of little feet
Fill our home with the richness of hope
That life's special moments will always include
A lifetime of memories with this Special Gift of mine
By: Liz Ward
Peering through crystals along the palm lined
Avenue of Angels, stretching endlessly
In a parallel universe serenaded by unheard
Choruses of lost newborns ripped from their
Mother's wombs through no fault of theirs,
Nor judgement of their mothers.
Resentment, anger or any form of avarice
Does not exist on this beautiful avenue.
Tho rain does fall on this particular evening,
Darkened skies glower; not yet willing to relinquish
The pitter-patter of little feet nor the innocent
Laughter of unborn children.
Our living exhibit (the slow dimension we inhabit)
Demonstrates immense capacity for
Estrangement from any compassion for these
Lost souls, even as Angels welcome them
With gifts of everlasting love upon entrance
To their glorious avenue; unaware of their
Own mortality that will someday
Beg forgiveness at this same aperture
To the
Avenue
Of
Angels
Palm Sunday Morning
3:30 am
03/29/15
It upsets me how cruel people are in this world today
pictures show baked in dirt crying alone
Having grow up tainted with killing and brutality
in the streets bombs going off
Earth shattering noise as the ground trembles
one feels a shaking underneath
Scared out of your wits
the effect it has on children
poor innocent little souls
If only they knew
being born into this selfish cruel world
it would make the hardest heart shed a tear
the scars forever remain
It leaves such damage
governments they all claim not to see
Everything is all controlled by mans greed war war war
is all one heart hears
what it all boils down to in the end
God be with them I pray
beginning their beautiful life's
tainted with scars
suffering little children
to hear the patter of little feet
truly a Godsend
Bedtime is at Eight
By Elton Camp
Rearing kids can be okay
Yet, for bedtime, hooray!
A blessed interval of quiet
Before collapsing for the night
Especially for Mom, it’s a treat
Free from the patter of little feet
All the hungry mouths are fed
They’re clean and in their bed
Kid, get in your bed or fear
That ogre mother will appear
It’s a transformation you won’t like
So obey your bedtime, little tyke
Lest she commence to scream and yell
Like a mom who’s straight from hell
Pancakes for breakfast,
What a yummy treat!
Here come the children,
The pitter patter of little feet.
They gather at the table,
Their tummies are a rumblin',
Chattering and laughing,
Not a one is grumblin'.
Pass the butter, if you please,
Here comes the syrup now.
Mapley goodness trickles down,
From hungry little mouths.
"Thank you, Mommy"' they exclaim,
As they finish their last bites.
Then rush to give maple syrup kisses
To their mother, smiling bright.
8/10/12
I heard the pitter patter of little feet I looked up to see my daughter looking so sweet!She
said daddy I heard a story today before the starting of the Christmas play!It was about a
man named Jesus that died for our sins then retuned to life again!A true story I sighed and
sit her on my knee explaining about Gods mercy and love!At the end of our conversation we
said a prayer we had talked for over a hour!
The floodlight went out
Just about two o'clock in the morning
But little did anyone know
That the attack was about to spring.
Being asleep in their beds
No one had realized what to think
When the sound of a clang
Meant that there was an invasion
Right in the back yard.
The pitter-patter of little feet across the brick
Led up to the built-in garbage can.
They worked very quick,
Like two bandits in disguise,
To grab a bundle of goodies.
"But, I'll hold the lid up
So that you can see.
It's so messy down there,
For a girl like me."
"Okay, OKay, don't worry,
I'll get the vittles."
Hanging over the edge,
He manages to scrounge through a pile
But figured out he was stuck in a wedge
Against the inside wall.
He changes ges his strategic tactic just by chance,
Side by side with his accomplice,
They looked at each other at once glance.
They struck a gold mine of seafood delight,
And scurried away so excited
With their catch of the night.
Day turns to night and I lose my sight .
My head fills with the pitter patter of little feet.
Lots of giggles and smiles and tiny kisses
for miles and miles .
Dreams of babies consume the night .
Morning falls and I awake into a daze .
The day goes o slow it seems , as soft lalabyes
play in my head until i reach my bed again .
Day turns to night and I again lose my sight
as dreams of babies once again consume the night .
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