PICNIC

She sits this morning in her chair
The new-mown grass fills the air.
The water makes a slight rainbow
Seen from the chair by her window.

She sees the squirrel next door in play,
It is a picnic kind of day.
Bright red roses in full bloom
Gladly sharing their perfume.

Birds in trees their thanks are singing
Church bells in the steeple ringing.
The morning sky in golden glow
Brings back the days of long ago.

Gail Simpson, June 7, 1936, 21 years old
My uncle

A picnic that is now long gone,
Walking barefoot on the lawn.

Cecil

The two of them so much in love
A soft blue sky up above.

Cecil Miller Simpson, 21 years old

Now there was a little boy, that made three;
Picnics beneath a shady tree.

Billy Gail, Cecil and Gail
A loving family

A house that had an ocean view,
A fireworks sky in twilight hue.

Cecil and Gail, 1968

A lonely highway, a sudden crash,
Life was changed in just a flash.
She hasn't run for quite awhile
And pain is hid behind her smile.

Cecil and Gail, after the accident
She still has a smile

But she knows someday hand-in- hand
They'll picnic in a better land.
And with her legs she will run
In that bright land beyond the sun.

Gail and Cecil

She sits each morning in her chair,
With tender love he puts her there.
 
 

Note
This is a tribute to my Aunt Cecil, who has been paralyzed for many years. Her husband Gail was a good man. He is gone now, but she is still sweet and gentle.