The Memory Saver By Rachael Jones

A mother with a camera in hand
Documents her daughter playin’ on the land.
Vacation at the beach to see the sea,
At the house having a party with tea,
Her daughter frolics around being young,
One day the mother’s song will be unsung.  

The life will be taken in two years’ time;

Almost when her daughter reaches her prime.
Often the camera goes click, click, click
To capture the moment within the pic.
They say “paper can’t make up, what is lost”
But moments will freeze and never defrost.

 Holidays, birthdays, special occasions

All conclude with camera invasions.
“Smile, just one more time?” pleaded her mother
“This dumb picture is just like the others”
Said the girl who wants to live in moment.
Who doesn't know, pictures bring enjoyment
For when her mother won’t be coming back,
Scrapbooks will sustain, when memories lack.

Grateful for paper she has to cherish.

Stares at a picture before her marriage,
Turn back the clock, making her by her side,
Dreaming her mother could hold her, she cried.
She dries her tears as she walks down the aisle,
Cameras flash, and she knows it’s worthwhile.

“Smile to the camera, it’s just for me,”

The beholder of many memories.
Thoughts have a tendency to come and go
This will help you remember as you grow.

__________________________________________

The Bridge Builder By Will Allen Dromgoole

An old man going a lone highway,

Came, at the evening cold and gray,
To a chasm vast and deep and wide.
Through which was flowing a sullen tide
The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide. 

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,

“You are wasting your strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day,
You never again will pass this way;
You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build this bridge at evening tide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head;

“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followed after me to-day
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been as naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!”