Sunday, June 21, 2009

Poem on Parents

I found it! There you go.


By Shirley Howard

Shirley Howard, “Parents,” Ensign, July 1974, inside front cover

My father was a carpenter
and stood on sawdust carpets
as he fashioned wood.
He taught us lines
must measure true,
to use three nails
instead of two,
and he had a special rule:
we read before
we started school.

My mother,
on the other hand,
was always-ever in demand,
planning programs,
making floats,
rearranging words and notes,
and she gathered
stars and flowers
to adorn us in our brighter hours.

They were different,
yet the same,
for one designed the picture,
as the other made the frame.

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