Letter to My Children (May 13, 2018)
It is Mothers Day again. We stopped by your homes this morning, to try and see you all. Of course, Sarah, with your home under construction, I do not know where you are staying. Gretel and her three little boys were along this time. She wanted to introduce you all to her youngest son, Peter. He is a love and almost five months in this picture with Gramma.
You know that on Mother’s Day I always asked for poems from you kids. And you would recite or read to me some sweet, some funny, some tragic, some precious. Like this one below. Christina actually recited this from memory when she was in second grade. I loved it Bean! We will teach it to Gretel's boys, along with Flanders Fields and Psalm 23. Come home dear children. You are loved and missed and wanted by us, by all your family, by all your old friends. Come home. Love and hugs and kisses always and forever.
Mom
Wynken, Blynken And Nod
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew
"Where are you going and what do you wish?"
The old Moon asked the tree
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beutiful sea
Nets of silver and gold have we"
Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod
The old Moon laughed and he sang a song
As they rocked in the wooden shoe
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in the beautiful sea
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish
For never afeared are we"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
All night long their nets they threw
For the fish in the twinkling foam
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe
Bringing the fishermen home
'Twas all so pretty, a sail it seemed
As if it could not be
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea
But I shall name you the fishermen three
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes
And Nod is a little head
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle bed
Now close your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
As the old Moon rocked the fishermen three
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
