The words of this poem transported me too.....to a wound that never really heals, to a place where I remember all those I've loved and lost and the words fill me with sadness as I recall my special ones. Well done!
A visceral memory. EB White, a genius. My grade teacher read this to us, Mrs. Nordlicht. She was stern and we were all just a tad afraid of her. But that catch in her voice and the sniffles and tears of the room brought us all in to a special experience.
One of my favorite books; the cover is worn, pages are bent and this poem urges me to read about Charlotte again. Through the years, as I read, I’m a different person. Each reading closer to understanding.
So moving.
🕷🕸I’ve never read Charlotte’s Web but this has inspired me to…..
The words of this poem transported me too.....to a wound that never really heals, to a place where I remember all those I've loved and lost and the words fill me with sadness as I recall my special ones. Well done!
A visceral memory. EB White, a genius. My grade teacher read this to us, Mrs. Nordlicht. She was stern and we were all just a tad afraid of her. But that catch in her voice and the sniffles and tears of the room brought us all in to a special experience.
One of my favorite books; the cover is worn, pages are bent and this poem urges me to read about Charlotte again. Through the years, as I read, I’m a different person. Each reading closer to understanding.
Beautiful. Several moments in time described, all affected by words, the memories they conjure and the emotions they carry. Really nice.
Reading about webs, led me to threads, tapestry and a poem I wrote.
Three Things I Hope I’m Doing
Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
Not growing older, aging.
No wine before its time.
Too early? Grape juice. Too late? Vinegar.
Like a fine bottle of champagne, but bolder.
Not growing older, maturing
gracefully like a swan.
Royally gifted to weather joy and loss.
Vulnerable, committed to display love and sorrow.
Not growing older, evolving.
Seasoned weaver of a unique, colorful tapestry
that measures time, aggregates experiences in threads, brilliant and blue.
Only from afar is my beauty complete.
I've always loved this poem.
It takes me back to so many books and stories I read to my boys, and sometimes one would catch me, just like this.