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Amelia Wire Holmes Aaron
1902 - 2000/American Amelia Aaron was born in Louisiana. She was a businesswoman, and was accomplished in music and poetry. She lived to be 98 years old and she died in her home state of Louisiana. / / For most of her life she entertained people by playing the piano and singing and as well as leading sing-a-long's at Nursing/Retirement Homes and at times for other people in her home State. / / The writer Francois Mignon spoke and thought highly of her work, and he encouraged her to continue in her craft. He would publish her work periodically in the Natchitoches Enterpriese. A newspaper in which he contributed to regularly. / / She actively contributed to charities most of her life, especially the National Down Syndrome Organization in tribute of her own Daughter Jane. / / biblio:eaglesweb.com
Last night I prayed Softly, peacefully, and still, No strain, no grief, no disbelief, No doubting of His will, Last night I prayed Softly for His strength, Since I am weak. Then with peace-of-mind Worries and stress left behind I quietly fell asleep.
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Prayer Magic
That whistling Milkman so long ago With tunes so happy and gay, So very little did he know How well he started my day, The tinkling bottles Of milk and cream, Awoke me each morning From my dreams, With happy tunes From this whistling man, Brightening the day Before it began.
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The Whistling Milkman
Paths really fascinate me Guess they always will, Whether in a clover field Or up a grassy hill, Is it curiosity Or will I ever know? Why I am filled with wonder As to where and how far they grow? September 3 1955
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Paths
She never had a diamond To grace her small left hand, No sapphires or anything Except her plain gold band, No sparkling jewels of any kind No precious stones or pearls, Although she had one ruby Her fourth straight baby girl, She must have wanted riches For 'tis natural to prefer, But she settled for her babies Who were shining jewels to her, The only carats dad was able to buy Were on the dinner table, Food for three square meals as well So her only rings were the dinner bell.
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Jewels
The thirsty earth Drinks up the rain, Absorbing it before It reaches the drain, Thank you clouds thank you rain, Thank you dear God again and again, For every drop That touches the ground On every rooftop All over town, The sweet relief From summer's heat, Though short rested None-the-less sweet! For making gardens And flowers grow, For the cool air, that wasn't there, Such a short while ago. July 26 1966
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Thanks For Rain
I'm snoozing my best in the morning Along about sun up, When I hear someone a-callin' Wake up, it's time to get up, I lay there stretching and yawning So nice to stay in bed, I see the Sun is shining Over the back woodshed, Crawling from under the covers Cheeks so nice and cool, When the Sun gets over the chickenhouse It's time to go to school, Then sometimes After I am up out of bed, The moon comes over The same woodshed, If I'm still And quiet as a mouse, I'm asleep before it reaches The old tinhouse. August 2, 1963
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Wake Up Time
Somethings can touch you deep inside Can make you want to cry, Emotions that you can't describe No matter how hard you try, The touch of a tiny baby's hand The fragrance of a flower, The simplicity of a grain of sand Or the significance of an hour, To see the twinkling stars at night Or taste the fresh homemade pie, Who needs to question how or when Who needs to know where or why? To hear the angelus ring at six To know that evening is nigh, We know there's got to be Somebody bigger than you and I.
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The Five Senses
As the locusts sang in the twilight heat The Sun no longer baked the city-street, The lonely last was her to repeat. August. Her lonely soul ready to bare Trying to hide her utter despair, She wouldn't mind if there were someone to share, August. Seeing lovers in the park Who would hold hands without a care, She would cry inside, 'It just isn't fair." In August. May never comes too soon June is the month to spoon July just right for a honeymoon But August? July 16 1963
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Lonely August
Did someone scatter cornflakes All over the ground? Or some kind of cereal With a crunchy sound? When walking on the grass There's a snap, crackle, and pop, The dry summer's drought Just doesn't seem to stop. Lawns all around Look about the same, All turning brown While waiting for the rain. August 21, 1993
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August
The frost is always the whitest On the corn-crib and the barn, The house is always the quietest When folks are asleep on the farm, The locusts and crickets the chirpiest Though they may not stay in tune, The darkness is the nightiest When there is no moon.
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Fond Memories Of Farm Life