Teresa Dearing Poems
You did not come with nine months wait,
I did not buy the buttons and bows ‘til late,
You, my daughter came, mid your teen-age years,
And I loved you in spite of all my fears.
A short while mine, to dress, to spoil, to love,
Far too soon you flew, like a sweet, soft dove.
Now content to listen to all your hopes and fears,
Forever you are my girl in spite of all your years.
If I could have picked a daughter, she would have been you,
No mother could love a daughter, any more than I love you,
The Witch Of The Winter
The Witch of the Winter she calls to me,
Come lay in my cool, white softness.
So lovely and pure, I will be your cure,
For all the world’s sorrow and sadness.
No struggles, no pain, you can only gain,
Come to me, escape all of this madness.
Her voice in the wind sings a sweet delight,
As she calls me to lie on her mattress.
Soft and white in the middle of the night,