Rhyme & Reason - a reason to rhyme

  Goodbye, it seems so final, In life, we'll say a few, Though didn't think 'twould be as hard To say "goodbye" to you. Your stories on your 'facebook' With 'nature chats' expressed, I'm pretty sure your readers Did end up being blessed. Made mention of it often, The love you have for Tweed  And torn between Line 45, Your hearts love did succeed. So now to Tweed you're heading back  Still quite some travelling, Your 'chats with nature ', will go on Your sparrows, will still sing. Your concerned love for others, With sponsored walks, to raise Some needed funds, assistance, Then your Creator, praise. So think about us often, As we, will think of you, Your Generations family  Unite, to say "adieu".

"This  life is all there is here" "There is no 'afterlife' " Has often been repeated By youth, husband, or wife. HOWEVER, when it happens, Of someone close, demise, "They're in a 'better place's now" Are words that do arise. If only, made for certain,  Their destination place, The BETTER choice, of course made, Would provide grieving grace. Then, in place of a "funeral", Have "Life's Celebration", That certainty, re-meeting, With Spirits' elevation.

Whene'er I reach those Pearly Gates, First greeting I'll receive, Will be "WELCOME" from Triune God, Since years back, did believe. Though there'll be MANY, MANY more, Relatives, distant, close,  Friends from many years, and few, E'en unknown t'me, suppose. Grand parents past, before my birth, Siblings, stillborn, or lost, Had learned of two, aft. parents passed, Whose paths, I'd never crossed. Then friends, whose Heavenly migration, Young, middle aged, who'd passed To their eternal Paradise, Will reunite, at last. Then we'll have time, ETERNAL time To gather 'round His throne, Together, adoration bring To Triune God, alone.

My father was a humble man, Was driving long before A formal 'test' was needed, Be that two or four door. Initially,  a motorbike, When dating my dear mum, Though afterwards, a vehicle  When parents, did become. A vehicle, it was needed, Cared less whate'er he drove, So long as got from 'A' to 'B' He had nothing to prove. A "sense of humour" had he, A "sense of grandeur" too, The luxury vehicle, named Rolls Royce, Was out of bounds, he knew. Though drove a 'Rolls Can'ardly' His description, with wit, It certainly, 'Rolls' downhill though, 'Can'ardly' roll up it.

  My father was a strict man, Now let me put you straight, He HAD a playful manner, Just hated to be late. A "personal chauffeur" was he To me, when I was young, When fo'me, 'driving' was "no-no" His trait, on me, has hung. He loathed to rush, in traffic, Preferred a gentler drive,  Would stress,  always, importance Of tryin' to stay alive. A 'crystal ball' he had not, Road traffic, for to see, "You don't know what the traffics like" Was emphasized  to me. Thus, when he was a-driving,  With others, or alone, He aye chose to leave early, Not brake that speeding zone. 'Twas drummed into his family, That he, to keep a date, Be fifteen minutes early, Than e'er ONE MINUTE late.

  When growing up, in mid teens  A 'scrawny' figure had,  I was exempt from 'sports class'  Though, was a skinny lad. When working in a builders yard, Sev'nteen to thirty one, While times it could be stressful, At other times, 'twas fun. I did, though, gain some muscle power Unloading trailers, large, Ne'er noticed daily progress, While hauling, free of charge. From that went into 'caring' Transferring human weight, Though knowing how to, properly, Easier than hauling freight. Assisted moving humans, Lift over twice my weight, Knowledge of doin' it prop'ly, No injuries, to date. Bend legs, back straight, was how I'd trained, It IS the way to go,  Soon muscles did get stronger And they began to show. Though wordmanship, it also grew, With "C.Ross-words", to boot, I'd play on words consistently, Deliberat'ly, wrong word, put. So where I once was 'puny' With wordmanship, my fame, Did add  "N" to descriptio...

The lifespan of a butterfly, Is one of struggling toil, From crawling caterpillar To pupas toiling coil. Caterpillar stage, just weeks long, Pupa, can be two years As a flying butterfly, Four weeks or less, those dears. Eventually the beauty shows Their patterned, coloured, wings I'm sure, that in their language, Though we can't hear, she sings. No announcement, weather forecast, To them, innate it seems, The sunny dryer climate, Has them enjoy sun's beams. Whene'er it rains, the butterfly, Will rest, their wings, can't use, So they'll relax from labouring 'Til clearer day, she views. Since Creator made the butte'fly,  HE also, mankind made, We too, our rest times needed Lest energy does fade. Whene'er we go through trials, Stand back, let go, take rest, Recharge 'til we're more able, Then we can show our best.

    A town in Northern Ireland   Historic castle, there,   Is reknowned in a song now,   It's sung, with loving care.    In Canada, now living,   Return home, - not scheduled   Retired, in 'ssisted living,   The given care, quite good.   The town, is Carrickfergus   First half of name, - best known.   Quite soon though, I'LL be movin'   To second half, I'm goin'.   Though NOT to TOWN by that name,   There IS one, not too far,   It's only 40 mins away   When traveling by car.   The new place I will go to,   Is Fergus Place, by name,   I trust the care received there   Be better, if not the same.

The button shows a wheelchair So those who, close, can't get, To pull the doorway open, May use, to entry, let. Howe'er, like most things out there, Advantage oft is taken,  By those who can be lazy, Their muscles, have forsaken. It's easier to do so, Than exert their muscle power, To cause them, least exhaustion,  To keep the door ajar. So there are very few now, Who act'lly PULL the door, Button is much easier, Their muscle use, - a chore.