Poetry by Shirley
            Allard


            
Chances

            
The bumble bee sits in my hand

            And look, he does not quiver

            While sweet Olivia's childish look

            As though an animated book

            Approaches a curious shiver.

            
But Grammy, if he stings me now

            Won't that really, really hurt me?

            And make me really, really mad

            (Her face is growing long and sad)

            At every single humble bumble bee?

            
It's hard to say, my little one

            You'll know when you are ready

            Until that time, back up and wait.

            With trusting eyes and spaghetti gait

            She moves back, slow and steady.

            
You see my precious, bumble bees,

            Not built for fright or flight,

            Are here to bring us wonder and astound

            And had they never taken on that daring chance at flight

            They surely would have never left the ground.

            
I know one day with a daring heart

            In a scary grown-up land

            You will feel the need to take that chance

            And allow some bumble bee to dance

            In the palm of your trusting hand.

            
The chances you take are included in life's
            great plan.

            
 

            
 

            
Hand in Hand

            
We have walked together

            hand in hand

            As our family tree has grown.

            
We have shared the hardships

            heart to heart

            and never cried alone.

            
We are growing older

            side by side

            together all the while.

            
Still taking time out

            day by day

            to make each other smile.

            
And when our time on earth 

            has passed, it will not mean 

            we have parted

            
We will walk through heaven

            hand in hand

            and finish what we've started.

            
 

            
Nightsongs

            
In restless hours

            of the night

            I am your flower

            bathed in light

            in candles' glow

            two shadows dance

            two souls engaged

            in mindless trance

            beyond such things

            as place and time

            your rhythm sings

            in tune with mine.

            
 

            
Shirley Allard resides in
            New Hampshire with her husband Jim. She has two grown children
            and two young grandchildren who are the light in her life. She
            is the founding publisher of WordCatalyst.comand writes the blog Whispers In The Wind.

            
More poems by Shirley page1,
            page2, and her for
            her columns visit, now, then,
            and before.