Mary Fowler Poems

I miss you when the sun comes up each morning;
I think of all the days we used to share.
To lie in bed would only make it harder,
Knowing, Dear, that you will not be there.
...

They're falling now across my yard,
I must go and find my rake.
As once again I start the race
To beat the first snow flake.
...

One Morning in May I arose from my bed,
Stretching, squinting, and yawning;
I looked out my door and to my surprise
I saw beneath my awning;
...