A PEACEFUL ROOM

A PEACEFUL ROOM

In every heart there is a room

Where shelter can be found,

A place of love and memory

Where joy and tears abound.

A place of shelter from the storm

Where love’s young dream lives on ~

A place to visit often

Where families are one.

Laughter rings from this room

And comfort bears the soul

On angel wings and carries it back

To where it can be whole.

No aging here in memory,

And days all long and fair

A special place to visit

Away from toil and care.

Love is fresh and new

And very starry eyed.

A remembered glance and touch

A smile of tenderness and pride.

Conversation soft and low

Sweet, sweet wine and flowers.

Visiting this heart room

Brings again the joy of hours.

The tears that have been shed here

And some brought sweet release,

The agony of waiting and watching

For morning to bring some peace..

The memory of cooling

A precious child’s fevered brow,

The hoping and the praying

That it would be alright somehow.

In this room of your heart

Stand shelves of memories treasure

The bitter/sweet and painful ones,

The ones which bring such pleasure.

Visit your heart’s room often

Restore and find some calm

It is a special place indeed

And will shelter you from harm.

© Linda J. Vaughan

MY DAUGHTERS

MY DAUGHTERS

I remember feeling comfortable

Holding you in my arms,

Being totally in awe

Of all your baby charms.

I remember rocking you in your cradle

And singing a lullaby,

Nursing you through midnight hours

Not wanting you to cry.

I remember when you would wake

All cosy and warm from sleep,

Feeling such love for you

It oft times made me weep.

And now when I look at you

I see the women you have become,

It totally overwhelms me

That I have been your Mum.

I often hear the music

Of the lullabies I would sing,

The memories are beautiful

And such special joy they bring.

© Linda J. Vaughan.

June 2007

THOUGHTS ON ANZAC MORNING

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gmgwx77osw

Red Gum - I was Only Nineteen

THOUGHTS ON ANZAC MORNING.

I am listening now to the sound of a drum

And the pounding of marching feet

As old soldiers step out once again

And march through our City Street.

The pride is still there as they answer the call

And they are holding their heads up high,

They're older now with bodies more frail

And I look and I wonder and sigh.

There are no Diggers left to mark this day ~

None that fought on that first Anzac Morn 

But still we remember them with pride

And cherish the medals worn.

War follows war and still we fight on

Looking for peace in our world,

Sadly my friend I think you will find

That the flag of peace remains furled.

The pattern is set to mark this day

And every year we celebrate

The Digger in his Slouch Hat

Marching side by side with his Mate.

The uniforms no longer fit

As young men have become much older,

The steps are slow and faltering

And life becomes much colder.

Relatives are marching for those who fell

With pride and love so strong

And the younger of more recent wars

Are also marching along.

Forgotten men of a forgotten war

But I don't think this is the case,

I look at them and feel gratitude

When I see the pride on each face.

So as this day comes around 

And year follows year

Remember the men and the women

Who fought both the war and the fear.

Give thanks for all who suffered

And thanks for those who stayed home

To keep the "home fires burning"

Army and Airforce and those who sailed the foam.

© Linda J. Vaughan

Anzac Day - 25th. April 2011