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My Books
- ADOPTED
- A Big Scare Turns Out Tiny
- Am I Depressed?
- An Illiterate Confession
- A Quirky Christmas
- COLOR BLIND FRIENDS
- Daddy Goes On A Trip
- DADDY IS GONE
- Destiny The Girl Who Loved Rocks
- Destiny The Girl Who Loved Dragons
- Destiny" Dragon The Purple Knight
- DOES JOHNNY HAVE AUTISM?
- El ojo morado de Mama
- Goodbye Dad, A Military Funeral
- Goodbye Dad, The Funeral
- Great Nanny Doesn't Remember Me
- GROWING OLD: AGING EXPLAINED
- Hardy Belch And The Bully
- Hardy Belch And The Gold Train
- Hardy Belch And The Green Man
- Hardy Belch and The Predator
- Hardy Belch and Tiny Return
- I LIKE TO WHINE
- Jack's Diabetes
- Joey’s Psoriasis
- Kiku's Quest
- Lisa Gets A Dog
- MOM and DAD are SPLITTING
- Mommy's Black Eye
- My Dad the Policeman
- My Mom the Police Officer
- The Adventures of Hardy Belch
- The Boy Who Loved Sharks
- Short or Tall, Doesn’t Matter At All
- The Christmas Knot
- The Wicked Good Stepmother
- Two Dads, Two Moms, Two Kids
- WHAT ABOUT ME?
- MY BLOGS
- REVIEWERS CORNER
- Contact Form
- Book Related Gift Ideas
- Essays On Life
- Favorite Links
- About The Author
- News & Free Stuff
- Photo Gallery
- Hard Drive Issues?
- The Art Work of George Martin Bentrim
- Bearly Tolerable Publishing's Author Services
- Bearly Tolerable Publishing's Book Releases
- *
- Terrific Illustrator
_The Little People
Funny how the little people sneak into your life,
Under the umbrella of you and your wife.
Tiptoeing around, hiding in plain site
Often starting the day at dawn’s early light.
Energy abounding, enthusiastic beyond belief
Pots of gold, treasures galore surrounding their own little fief.
Sharing traits with the elves and pixies of folklore,
These little people bring way, way more.
No rainbow is needed to bring these wee ones out,
They are under foot and sharing their love with no doubt.
Sometimes they enter your life unannounced,
Often they are planned for and sought to no avail
Many a night they punctuate with their wail
It doesn’t matter how full is your life,
Nor does it matter if you are fraught with strife
These little people could care less what you earn
They are willing to sit on your lap just to learn.
They don’t care what accolades are accorded you,
They don’t care if your hair is grey or blue.
They are more concerned with the size of your lap
They could care less what car you drive or if you shop at the Gap.
The score you make on the fairway or bridge table means nothing to them,
They are only looking for when they will see you again.
The slowing of step and the gray in the hair
Are a very minor price for bringing these little people into your lair.
They will never make you lazy and may make you crazy,
They are the only people who may bring you a single daisy,
They crawl on your lap and whisper in your ear,
They welcome the fact that you call them dear.
It’s such a surprise to rediscover the joy of young laughter and tears
Particularly during your later years.
The memories of your children’s laughter and tears
Is renewed with astounding vigor in your declining years
By those little people you are blessed to find
Your own pot of gold, those grandchildren of mine.
©2010
Under the umbrella of you and your wife.
Tiptoeing around, hiding in plain site
Often starting the day at dawn’s early light.
Energy abounding, enthusiastic beyond belief
Pots of gold, treasures galore surrounding their own little fief.
Sharing traits with the elves and pixies of folklore,
These little people bring way, way more.
No rainbow is needed to bring these wee ones out,
They are under foot and sharing their love with no doubt.
Sometimes they enter your life unannounced,
Often they are planned for and sought to no avail
Many a night they punctuate with their wail
It doesn’t matter how full is your life,
Nor does it matter if you are fraught with strife
These little people could care less what you earn
They are willing to sit on your lap just to learn.
They don’t care what accolades are accorded you,
They don’t care if your hair is grey or blue.
They are more concerned with the size of your lap
They could care less what car you drive or if you shop at the Gap.
The score you make on the fairway or bridge table means nothing to them,
They are only looking for when they will see you again.
The slowing of step and the gray in the hair
Are a very minor price for bringing these little people into your lair.
They will never make you lazy and may make you crazy,
They are the only people who may bring you a single daisy,
They crawl on your lap and whisper in your ear,
They welcome the fact that you call them dear.
It’s such a surprise to rediscover the joy of young laughter and tears
Particularly during your later years.
The memories of your children’s laughter and tears
Is renewed with astounding vigor in your declining years
By those little people you are blessed to find
Your own pot of gold, those grandchildren of mine.
©2010