Memories'

Daddy's Girl


I was born one morning in a small southern town.
Kinfolks came from all around.
A tiny bundle placed on Daddy's knee.
A miracle Daddy was, looking down at me.
I remember holding onto his fingers as we walked.
I remember the whispers and the kisses and talks.
He spent every dime when I became ill.
He just had to find that magic pill.
I could see the pain because it reflected in his eyes
As I tried to fight against Polio and it's deadly lies.
He carried me locked around his waist for years.
And I watched him shed so many gut wrenching tears.
I heard him begging the doctors for a cure.
How long could Daddy this pain endure?
Then came the braces and the whirlpool tubs.
While Daddy worked Grandma rubbed
Those tired weak muscles that didn't seem to walk.
Endless days Daddy worked and not once did he balk.
He only prayed harder that his little girl would one day walk.
There is no amount of money I would take
For my sweet Daddy during all those touching heartaches.
Daddy's are special to every little girl.
Daddy in my eyes was from out of this world.
No one compared to him in my eyes.
For he loved me unconditionally and without disguise.
Now Daddy's in heaven and I am missing a part.
There is a great big whole inside of my heart.
But I know Jesus is happy with Daddy up there.
And one day with Daddy all my memories I'll share.
Polio visited me and left just like Daddy said.
All because Jesus heard Daddy praying beside my bed.
I was a Daddy's girl then and I am still to this day.
I just have to wait till Jesus takes me to heaven to stay.

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c) 11-2002

Granny's Hands


I was just a little baby only weeks I think
Mommy had to work and I stayed with Granny.
She rocked and sang and gave her special wink
With Mom gone, she made the perfect Nanny.

She taught me how to eat with a spoon.
Told me how the cow jumped over the moon.
She hummed and worked, singing a little tune.
I watched her wishing I'd be like her soon.

The months and years just hurried by.
We watched the baby bluebirds learn to fly.
She told me stories and always told me why.
I wondered what I'd do, if Granny ever died.

She had such little hands you see.
Rings on each finger and perfume on too.
Two loving people were we.
Thanks Granny I want to say I still love you.


Written by Sybil Shearin (c) 2002
Dedicated to Kimberly Nichole Shearin

Granny's Book


Granny always told me not to be afraid.
She said God would take care of me forever.
Sometimes though I feel a little betrayed.
I still listen to her sweet words however.

At night I see dark shadows in my room.
They move around and I hear noises too.
Sometimes I can almost see a witches broom.
But I'll close my eyes as tight as glue.

Granny has a big book she reads at night.
She said it takes all the scary things away.
If I had that book I'd hold it really tight.
I'd keep it close till night turns to day.

When I grow up and I have a baby sweet.
I'll put Grannies Bible near my baby's bed.
I'll sing love songs and rock'em to sleep.
And tell them all the things Granny said!


Sybil Shearin (c) 2002

My Guardian Angel


Since I was only a little child.
I knew I had a very special friend.
Beautiful was my angel so meek and so mild.
I watched her hovering and then descend.

She lies with me in the darkest night.
I've seen her stand in her long flowing robe.
Protect me with a long sword ever so bright.
My fingers can trace her celestial lobe.

I know Jesus sent her to me forever to stay.
She loves me I know cause I feel her kiss.
A mighty protector she is till I die one day.
She is the one who told me about all of this.

So if you are little and you can't sleep.
They love and guard us with an angelic love.
You might feel a kiss on your little cheek.
Remember Guardian Angels are sent from above.

Sybil Shearin (c) 2002

Where is Mama Now?


She came into my room every night,
slippers graced her tiny feet.
Her gown adorned with lace and silk
She kissed me softly on the lips.

She read me love stories about fairies.
Covers were pulled and tucked neatly.
Pillow cases her fingers made just for me.
He hair long and flowing slipped down to see.

Her fragrance lingers even now.
Pictures of her still sit upon the tabletop.
Jewels she wore with her furs and silks
Lie neatly place in her musical jewelry box.

I picture her leaning over me
each and every night,still to this day.
Her fragrance lingers around me everywhere.
Years have passed, where is my mother now?

Written by Sybil Shearin (c) 2002

A Fragrance So Rare!


It was the extravagant fragrance that first caught my sight.
Then it was the shimmering starry night.
Pale was your face, so like velvet next to my skin.
I stood there wondering where you had been.
A black satin dress encrusted with diamonds end to end
Moulded to your body with endless sequins.
Fragile you were yet powerfully evocative of distant eras,
With dainty airy florals wrapping around your tiny wrist.
It was almost like a fairy tale that I had long sinced dreamed.
My imagination had kept you for many years it seems.
You stood there looking out over the ocean wide.
I felt like a schoolboy with too much pride.
Taking a deep breath and vowing not to shake
I followed the fragrance I so wanted to take.
Your eyes turned and pierced deep within my soul.
I was yours at that moment so my heart was told.
For years I had waited for a love like you.
How many women had my heart been through?
I knew you were the lady of my dreams
For I melted inside never once caring it seems.
Porcelain dolls can never your matchless beauty display
Nor the love that I hold for you today.
My love was captured first by your fragrance so rare.
My heart followed along, consumed and without a prayer.

Written by Sybil Shearin
(C) 11-2002

The Little Girl In Me



There she sits inside the walls peering out a window.
She was watching the rain falling soft upon the ground.
She wondered why God had left her without even the smallest glow.
Her thoughts drifted back to her childhood and the closet lock that kept her bound.
Darkness filled the room and no light could shine into it.
She wandered what was inside the darkness.
Then she saw it, fear, bruises, bitterness, hate, pain and death all waiting in this stone pit.
She saw the wicked hands that raced across her face leaving great distress.
The groping hands gripped her body bringing shame and guilt which tore into her mind and with evil would wickedly sit.
Someone was watching and listening to her every heartbeat.
Someone cared enough to chip away the hardness which never really seemed to fit.
He poured love into those open wounds and sealed it with His spiritual heat.
It was Jesus she saw filling the gaps of pain in her heart and soul.
It was His blood that was shed long ago and every stripe exposed flesh and meat.
She looked around her at the face and the hands that bore the nail holes.
How could people be so busy that their eyes could not see?
Suddenly she remembered His light had been there all along.
Even with pain and abuse she remember the light which was the key.
The darkness had shadowed her childhood with guilt and unforgiveness and taken her sweet childish songs.
Anxiously she walked to the mirror and gazed into her eyes just to see.
Jesus You put this twinkle in my eyes and to You I belong.
You were the one who kept repairing my broken heart.
You were the one who made me and gave me a brand new song.
Hold me close and guide my steps and let your light shine through me for a start.
Let me love like no one else can and be a beacon of light all my life long.
Allow me to show others the way to the Promised Land.
Give me enough of Your love that I can with Your help continue to take a stand.
Open me up and pour me out into the heart of man.
When my life is over here and upon Heaven's streets I shall forever be
If nothing more my Lord,  I pray You will be proud of me!


Written by Sybil Shearin
Dedicated to Paula for this is her story.
(c) 8-2003
Delivered by The Son!

Grandma's Biscuit Buffet!


I stayed with my Grandma cause Mama had to work at the mill.
It was Grandma who had the responsibility of keeping my tummy filled.
We drew our water from a well with a bucket that lowered down.
I would suspect we were not the only ones to do this in our town.

Grandma drew the bucket up with cold water from deep down in the ground.
We all took turns drinking from the dipper which was dented all around.
She made biscuits only once each day and she put them in the buffet.
A biscuit and some homemade jelly was breakfast for the day.

We didn't have a toliet just a wooden building she called the ole outhouse.
Needless to say it was a two seater and often visited by a mouse.
My hiney was too small and I was afraid to sit upon the seat.
So Granda held my hands my hindy for to keep.

I had two cousins that Grandma kept too.
We made a playhouse from old bottles and pans that were broken into.
I was Miss Loney and my cousin was Miss Froney.
I know this entire story sound a great deal like baloney.

We had one giant pear tree that grew the most delicious pears.
We spent the afternoon throwing rocks at them but Grandma didn't care.
I remember the most beautiful one was right up at the top.
I threw rocks all day until I watched that pear hit the ground and land with a glorious plop.

Then we come to the Black Draught tale and oh I hated it.
She would pour it in a spoon and we would pitch a fit.
This stuff was made of devils doo, I really do believe.
She said it kept us healthy not once noticing all our gags and heaves.

Then we have the Peach Snuff that came in a little tin round can.
She put a pinch under her lip, this I could not understand.
So I decided I would sneak a pinch and do just like she did.
I forgot to spit it out and I turned green as grass under the bed where I hid.

I just knew for sure I was going to die.
No one could save me now and I be gone in the blink of an eye.
Hours passed and finally I sneaked past Grandma running for the ole outhouse.
This time I wasn't even phased by the thought of a skinny mouse.

The Sears Roebuck catalog made good for many things.
It was the Christmas toy book and also toliet paper unlike that of noble kings.
After all those years at Grandma's she holds a special place in my heart.
She was the first one to tell me about Jesus and a piece of God's precious work of art.



Written by Sybil Shearin
(c)7-2003
All Rights Reserved
May be used with permission