Reagan wrote this poem, and beautifully framed it and gave it to me for Mother's Day:
What's it called when love is moving
through you so strongly you could drown?
Or when silence is so quiet it actually makes a sound?
Can a flower give you hope, like a
raindrop makes you wet?
If you sold all your compassion,
how much would you get?
If trust is what filled the oceans,
would you live a life at sea?
Or climb the highest mountain tops,
avoiding smallest streams?
Can passion make you dizzy?
Can courage make you blind?
Can kisses all be counted?
And if so in how much time?
If happiness only grew under the water
of the sea, are you sitting on the dock?
Or in a submarine?
What if people only fell in love to the
sound of a melodious ring?
Would you be the one to listen?
Or be the first to sing?
If you knew the angels voices were louder
than the monsters under your bed.
Would you still worry about tomorrow?
Or sleep with peace instead?
Knowledge we might have.
And wisdom we might gain.
But until we look inside ourselves
These questions still remain.
By Reagan Len Grabbe - 5/2009