Thanks for the Memories

Thanks for the Memories
(Farewell Party for Nancy Evans a children’s leader of music, and more as an accompanist for local community choirs, and an inspiration for generations to come for the joy of music, and in her heart, Christian Music)
(To the tune “Thanks for the Memory”)


Thanks for the memories,
A treasure hunt you made,
We sang we danced we stayed,
Was much more fun than X-box
Or Nintendo that we played,
Exciting is was.


Thanks for the memories,
You gave us instruments,
We learned in increments,
You smiled so wide; we felt your pride
We played with confidence,
How lucky we were.


(Refrain)
You were in love with our children,
You with your bounce and big grin,
God and His kingdom had a big win,
You walk in our doors,
We called you ours.


Thanks for the memories,
You put us in a mood,
For restaurants and food,
The recipe our Bible
And its loving attitude,
How savory it was.


Thanks for the memories,
You really set a pace,
For rocket ships in space,
An out of world experience
Toward our Jesus’ loving face,
How precious you are.


(Refrain)
You were in love with our children,
You with your bounce and big grin,
God and His kingdom had a big win,
You walk in our doors,
We called you ours.


Thanks for the memories,
For everything you are,
Each child to you a star,
You showered them with God’s love
And to be the best by far,
We love you so much!


Peter Lowell Paulson
September 21, 2012

My First Steps

My First Steps


My first steps I took today,
“Are you walking?”, mother cried,
I just looked and walked away,
My mother smiled, and then she sighed.


I was a preemie; born to soon,
I struggled; struggled night to dawn,
My Mom and Dad o’er me would swoon,
The three of us would carry on.


My head too big for body now,
A tiny hole within my heart,
Some fluid in my brain somehow,
And this, my parents, their first start.


Yes, these my parents, oh so grand,
They did not flinch one little bit,
I am their son; by me they’d stand,
They’d pull me though with tougher grit.


And, step by step I would advance,
My family loved me through it all,
This is my lot; my happenstance,
But, progress no one could forestall.


I’m steppin’ now; I’m steppin’ out,
I’ve proved that prayer, and grace above,
Can come in time with one’s devout,
True witness to His wondrous love!


Peter Lowell Paulson
September 19, 2012

Ever Since the Age of Two

Ever Since the Age of Two
(To Standard Rock Music)


Ever since the age of two,
I was lookin’ for a girl like you,
And, when I turned the age of three,
I was searchin’ for you and me.


Then I came to the age of four,
Where’s the girl that I’d adore,
Little boy at only five,
Dreams of you keep me alive.


Finally at age eighteen,
Cutest girl I’d ever seen,
All it took was one fine dance,
You and me in our romance.


You and me now in history,
Finest love that ever be,
Ever since the age of two,
I was searchin’ for a love like you!


Come on baby put your hand in mine,
We’ll be dancin’ ‘til we’re ninety-nine,
Thank the Lord for a love so true,
I’m so in love with you!


Peter Lowell Paulson
September 18, 2012

Baby Sitting Our Grandson

My two-year old grandson,
Breaks my heart,
No, melts my heart,
Heart strings are pulled,
Now that’s for sure,
Get to baby sit tonight!
In truth, Grandpa sits,
And, Grandma cares for,
I sitting on the back porch,
Grandma fairly runs when the doorbell rings,
To greet everyone,
And, I can hear my toddler yell,
“Papa!”, “Papa!”
My heart swells,
I think it is filling up,
With little tears of happiness,
Then all of a sudden,
“Titty!”, “Titty!”
(His word for “Kitty”),
Grandma is tickled to her core,
“Papa”, first,
“Titty”, second,
“Mam-ma” is always third,
In his little world.
Now little hands pound on the glass of the porch door,
I turn to see him,
Smile to little smiling face,
“Papa!”, “Papa!”
Yes, it is my heart breaking,
A little,
He won’t always be two,
Time to get the toy box out,
Time to play, Grandpa,
Time to play!


Peter Lowell Paulson
September 13, 2012

Muggy Days

Muggy days, oh, muggy days,
A morning moon viewed through a haze,
As on the east horizon’s strand,
A dawning sun; its crimson band.


Peter Lowell Paulson
September 4, 2012

Best Friends

 

 

Best Friends

 

How could it be that friends like we,
Would find such fine camaraderie,
Such chance or fate, or falderal,
A love of sport, and a golf ball.

 

 

Yes, five plus twenty years we’ve spent,
Through rain and heat on grasses bent-
To find a ball under a hedge,
Or splash one from the water’s edge.

 

 

Now though the years we’ve found our drive,
Our game, our chips, our putts derive-
A daggered knife to win a bet,
With handicaps and counted net.

 

 

Most knees and elbows; shoulders well,
No ling’ring aches or joints that swell,
With no excuses one and all,
Just shut your mouth and hit the ball.

 

 

And in the nights the bars and drinks,
Few snippets of what each man thinks,
We talk of kids, our lovely wife,
Some business and our family life.

 

 

Wee morning hours; bed finally,
Some dreams are drawn toward dawning tee,
Yet, every year the story ends,
We’ve found the best in these best friends.

 

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 1, 2012