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| You are in the attic of my mind I climb the stairs to the attic, And this is what I saw. There stands the crib painted white, With an angel on its side. And there is the chimney, That’s warm and cold, Like life itself. And there are the empty jars, Like the empty days of my life. And there are the letters that you wrote me, Tied with a golden ribbon, Like the golden ring on my finger. I don’t climb the stairs any more, But you are still in the attic of my mind. Frank J Tschida, 2002 |
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| Poems by Elsie Tschida Heineman and Frank Tschida |
This August Day As I lay upon the grass this August day I gaze into God’s eye, what is that you say? Why it’s the heavenly sky, warm, Blue for all to feel, if only they would! It’s all free this beauty to see, Just lift your eyes Not too high a price to pay, A moment of your time each day. Enjoy it now before its too late, Time can disappear , leaving no date. Oh, Thank you God, for your gifts, I am rich, I do have two hands, That’s more than some can say. Really, I will do something construction Sew, bake or perhaps make a figure of clay! Just let me linger a second more—better yet, three or four. I wan to enjoy one more cloud and to feel the sparkle of the sun’s rays. God, do you believe me too large, to ask a favor of you? Forgive me if you do, I really know it can’t come true Could I be your little child on this sweet summer day and just play Upon this lovely hilltop on this August day? Elsie Heineman, 2004 |