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Album
Little feet are stepping softly
Through the pages of my mind.
Now I hear them echo,
Where no glimpse of them I find.
Little hands are clapping gently,
Tiny arms, outstretched in love,
Precious pictures in an album,
Etched upon a Mother's love.
Little faces, rapt with wonder,
Upturned noses, eyes so bright,
Scenes that dwell forever with me,
Ne'er o'shadowed by the night.
Here, a small dark head is nodding,
There a golden one is seen.
And beyond, a small boy playing,
Farther on, a baby dreams.
Now I see them, ever changing,
Swift kaleidoscope of years ~
Infant, toddler, child forever,
Stepping softly through my tears.
Oh, I thank You, Thou who gave me,
Those whose photographs are mine,
Captured on the precious pages,
Of the album of my mind.
~Patricia Raybourn Luce~
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