POETRY & PROSE BY FELECIA
MY BEST FRIEND
Of all the people in my life, none compare to her.
She is, of course, the one GOD chose, to see my path was sure.
In her gentle hands, she held so tight, my small self as a babe.
But so strong in discipline she could become, when I chose to disobey.
She taught me how to tie my shoes and how to spell my name.
She chased away the scary thoughts and my fears, as each one came.
Under her wing, I ran to seek, the comfort from rain and storm,
She sheltered me the best she could to protect me from lifes harm.
I always see her joyful smile and how her face does shine.
I can see her reflection in my mirror, but the eyes I behold are mine.
If in need of warmth or care, to this one I can turn.
She is always there with open arms or a lesson to be learned.
Of all the people in my life, none compare to her.
She is of course, the one that made me who I am, my best friend, my dear mother.
I love you mom!
content © by Felecia 1999
JANE DOE
I read a sad story a long time ago
how a young girl was found and they called her Jane Doe.
No one knew the poor child or how her death came to be,
She was pulled from a river that flowed out to the sea.
Years have passed by,
as the babe lays at rest,
Tears of sadness some cry,
but not her parents, I guess,
for no one has claimed her for their own, what a shame.
An innocent one sleeping in a grave with no name.
content © by Felecia 1999
Enter here
to read about the real little Jane Doe
She Weeps
Alone she sits in deep thought, no one knows the true pain she feels,
Almost blinded by the tears that fall, and wishing her anguish wasn't real.
A beauty in her younger days, silver now, where once auburn hair,
And her 5 and 80 years of life, brought new reasons for her great dispair.
She had met her prince and bore his heirs, lived and loved the good life,
Once upon a time, princess of her castle, yesterday she became a widowed wife.
Her family now takes vigilant care, but know not of her heart's midnight scream,
For she misses her prince that she lay to rest, and who spoke so softly in lastnights dream.
Her parlor window, out she looks, and so quietly she weeps,
Keeping watch for death to call, to be beckoned herself to sleep.
content © by Felecia 2000 written with sad inspiration of an 85 year old friend.
Background made by Felecia
