Jim Yerman Poems

She loved visiting her grandma…at Grandma's everything just seemed right…
She especially loved those times she got to spend the night.

Because as she grew she began to find comfort in the wisdom of Grandma's words…
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Today we celebrate Ruth Wakefield...and where does her story begin?
In the state of Massachusetts where she bought the Toll House Inn.

One day Ruth was baking cookies...(they usually got rave reviews.)
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SO BEAUTIFUL

"You are so beautiful! " Her grandma loved to tell her.
"So beautiful! " She loved to say.
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Our great niece, Emily, is in the hospital…she was admitted yesterday…for the most wonderful of reasons…baby Olivia, is on her way…

If I was to give advice to Emily and Brandon…if I was to take the time…I'd put it in a poem…because advice sounds so much better in rhyme.
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Look out over our planet…no doubt you will see…a collection of people in all shapes and sizes…it's called Humanity.

We are all called Humans…but you don't have to look very far before you begin to wonder just how Human…we Humans truly are.
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It sits in a glass case in our bookstore…for all our customers to see…
It is old and It's expensive and must be handled sparingly.

I've often wondered about the route this book has taken…from the frontier days of yore…how it found it's way from where it was written to a glass case in our store.
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When I was young my parents taught me…without ever telling me why
that whatever happens to me in life…boys aren't supposed to cry.

For years I heeded that childhood lesson…and anytime tears escaped my eyes
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I’ve been composing these poems for a while and posting them for all to see
But the other day while checking out Facebook something occurred to me.

Believe it or not to write these verses takes a little effort...a little time
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If we were given 86,400 dollars every day to spend any way we could
And at the end of the day what we didn't spend would be lost to us for good,

What would we do? We wouldn't have to think too hard, or engage in a long discourse
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"Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness." Kahlil Gabran


IN PIECES
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