Barbara Degood

What I Leave Behind Barbara Degood

To me poetry is like a never ending whirlpool of words surrounding life. I cannot recall a time I did not feel a poem forming in most everything I witnessed. My Mother's brother, Raymond, and her sister, Alberta, loved poetry as well. When Uncle Raymond died, there was a worn and folded piece of paper found in his shirt pocket. On it was a written a poem he carried with him close to his heart. Knowing that left a profound impact on me, and led me to assume I inherited my love of poetry. I was born during the great depression. I was blessed with having nine siblings. We were poor, but we were unaware of it. Our clap board house was always warm, and the wood floors were as clean as the counter tops. My mother always reminded us of the importance of the Golden Rule. She was a sweet and shy lady who we all loved dearly. My father kept a steady job and kept us all fed and clothed; a feat to admire during and after the depression. Now I am so blessed with a wonderful husband, children and grandchildren who mean the world to me. Life is good.