This morning, a little poem appeared in my inbox. It was written by my dad's mother. When my grandfather sent it out to the family he didn't give a date, so I don't know at what point in her life she wrote it, but I like it.
The wind blew out of the south,
Mussing my hair, caressing my cheek and
Temptingly whispering, Climb over the hills
And see what lies beyond.
I never went to see
But I always wished I had.