Our diary of life are past memories
That will follow us through to the end,
Every day we may meet new adventure,
As each day a new page we begin.
And as we turn backward it's pages
And scan every item thereon,
It brings to our mind many faces
Of friends that are vanished and gone.
Some pages bring back pleasant memories
That have followed us on through the years,
While others were penned in deep sorrow,
And blotted and blurred with our tears.
Some pages were written in sunshine
With our heyday of life at it's best,
While others were penned with misgivings
When we were perturbed by unrest.
Some events we will always remember,
They're indelible, hard to erase,
Maybe happy days in our childhood
That the future will never efface.
Each night as we close up our diary,
We know not what tomorrow may bring,
May there be no tear drops on it's pages,
But instead, happy memories that cling.
March, 1947
Photo: Front - L to R - Daughters, Betty & Nina; son, Eric; Wife, Ethel; Daughter-in-law, Eleanor. Back - L to R - George Frampton; son, Roy.
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