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Some Think That Iím Alone

The Seasons Call To Me

Snippets



Some Think That Iím Alone

Some think that Iím alone.
Yes, Iím alone, but not lonely.
I have the courage to conquer the vast world
That is outside my doors, and windows.

I need to, I want to, I am Me.
I am here, I am there,
I have been almost everywhere
That I needed and wanted to be.

I have lived for seven decades,
And Iím proud of that.
I am fortunate, and I wonít decline,
But grow as a person.

My destiny is here and now.
As my English teacher once told me —
The world is your oyster;
make it what you may.


Heíd be proud of me today,
Iím a published poet and writer.
He is watching from heaven, saying,
You did it, Deanne; I knew that you would.

            — Deanne F. Purcell

Copyright Sept. 8, 2008

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The Seasons Call To Me


The seasons call to me, one by one;
They reach out to me and plead for my answer.
Winter is beautiful — snow on the ground,
Christmas trees and greeting cards and gifts;
Reunions with family and friends.

Spring, I love you. The clocks are changed,
And itís staying daylight longer.
Green leaves sprouting on the trees;
Lent is over, and Easter arrives - Jesus has risen.

Easter eggs to color brightly;
Celebrate with family and friends.
Closest to me is Spring;
Thatís when I was born.

Summer School is over —
Vacation time. And it's warm.
The sun is shining at the beach,
Picnics, and to the park we go.

Fall's around again. Vacation's over.
       Back to school;
Green leaves changing colors, falling,
Gathered and pressed in waiting scrapbooks
Or photographed for memory albums.

Winter is beautiful — snow on the ground,
Christmas trees and greeting cards and gifts;
Reunions with family and friends. New Year,
We begin anew

The seasons call to me, one by one;
They reach out to me and plead for my answer…

            — Deanne F. Purcell

Copyright Oct. 6, 2008

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Snippets

Riding in the Sun
Leaving the past behind
Painful Memories gone
No longer hurt us
Now that you are here.
Gentle hands
Filled with devotion
Like a lotion
From the ocean
Words of Love
Are never old,
or cold,
As from days of old
And words yet untold

— Deanne F. Purcell
Copyright June 10, 2008



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