Now the flowers are all folded
And the dark is going by.
The evening is arising . . .
It is time to rest.
When I am sleeping
I find my pillow full of dreams.
They are all new dreams:
No one told them to me
Before I came through the cloud.
They remember the sky, my little dreams,
They have wings, they are quick, they are sweet.
Help me tell my dreams
To the other children,
So that their bread may taste whiter,
So that the milk they drink
May make them think of meadows
In the sky of stars.
Help me give bread to the other children
So that their dreams may come back:
So they will remember what they knew
Before they came through the cloud.
Let me hold their little hands in the dark,
The lonely children.
--Hilda Conkling, age 9, ~ 1919
About My Dreams, by Hilda Conkling, age 9
I worked a bit late tonight. I have a lot to do, which is a good thing. At lunch, I did get a quick walk in at Bradfield Park. The weather was warm,…
A week ago we shivered. Today the weather turned warm. Sadly,though, I heard from people who experienced damage and the radio told of people in line…
This morning I got up and did my weekly weigh. I was up a bit over two pounds. I tend to fluctuate within a two pound range from week to week. I…