Monday, November 11, 2019

Giving Back

The birth of a child,
A twinkle in our eyes.
Visions of what’s to come,
A future and a prize.

A home and a family,
We see in future mists.
They call us for advice sometimes,
A call we can’t resist.

We hold this moment close
And pray with a silent nod,
A wish and prayer for happiness,
As we have faith in God.

The sweetest smell you ever know,
That of a baby’s skin.
Then come more visions,
Time and time again.

A wedding where we watch them take
A spouse forevermore.
A time when they wave goodbye
And walk out of our door.

We hold this moment close
And pray with a silent nod,
A wish and prayer for happiness,
As we have faith in God.

A softness of the gentle kind,
The hair of a babe newborn.
A heart full of gratitude,
With another scene adorn.

They learn to walk and run and play,
To talk and ride a bike.
Then head off to go camping,
With other youth to hike.

We hold this moment close
And pray with a silent nod,
A wish and prayer for happiness,
As we have faith in God.

Our child’s life before our eye
Passed beyond our grip
Visions of love flow or’ us,
Impart a gentle kiss. 

The moments come and go
Falling like gentle rain.
Nothing more than a passing smile,
So weak against the pain

We hold these moments close
And pray with a silent nod,
A wish and prayer for happiness,
As we have faith in God.

The doctor touches gently,
And we know the time is now.
We hold each other and the baby close,
And pray once more somehow.

They stop the respirator,
Wait till his life is past.
We know the story’s end,
We hold him to the last.

We hold our baby close 
A final prayer and nod,
We raise our child up today,
And give him back to God.

- Roy Hayward

---------------------------

In loving memory of
Frank Edward Hayward V.
11-11-2011 to 11-12-2011




Thursday, October 10, 2019

My heart still remembers

My heart still remembers 
A time in the past
My heart still remembers 
What I thought would last 

A child so precious 
So perfect and sweet 
A soul bright and new
With tiny smooth feet

My heart still remembers 
The wonder and love
My heart still remembers 
Those gifts from above

Days we expected 
That they’d never end
Greeting each child
That heaven would send

My heart still remembers 
Our sorrow and pain
My heart still remembers 
And my soul bears the stain 

The news was then broken 
Of my family’s end
Holding his hand
My chest felt it would rend

My heart still remembers 
The darkest of time
My heart still remembers 
Those who were kind

Then heaven showed us
Another sweet road
Where children were lost
Bearing heavier loads

My heart still remembers 
Learning to love
My heart still remembers 
Children sent from above 

Though born of another 
They're children still 
And I have a home 

And a heart, and a will 

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

What is Time To the Young?



Where do you get ideas for stories? It's a question without an answer. Or the answer is "Everywhere." I get my ideas for stories everywhere and from everyone.

Sometimes I worry a bit as I jot down a phrase or a short story description that someone will read it and recognize who and what was the inspiration and be upset. I work hard so that this will never happen.

I hear people say something. And the writer part of my brain grabs those words and twists them out of their context and into a new form. A new world. A new hero or villain.

Some of my best villains say things I heard from people I admire. And some of my heroes say words from people I don't admire. It's not about where the idea comes from, its all about what I can do with it. And I always hope that no one reads a story of mine and feels I have not been fair in what I have done with words they recognize.

I was listening to a song. As I heard the words the author part of my brain grabbed the refrain and with one small twist, a story came to life for me. It took a few years for the story to worm its way onto the page and be ready for others to read, but it is done now.

The story starts with a boy in college. He is a perpetual student and has been going to one college or another for a long time. A really long time. But things are about to change for him.

A chance encounter with someone he knew, or who knew him changes his plans and those choices have consequences. He has made living without consequences into an art form but he can't do that this time.

What do you do when you have all the time in the world but no purpose? Check out "What is Time to the Young?" and see what happens to a young man that is not as young as he looks, who comes to terms with the consequences of his own choices.