Stephanie McIlroy and I co-wrote a song which is going to be featured November 20th, 2015 at an event for Hope’s Garden (an eating disorders resource centre). The song is called Valentine’s Day. The song was originally written by myself as a poem and created into a song by Stephanie and her brother-in-law who fine-tuned the music. It was to honour my husband’s 60th birthday. Hats off to Stephanie for singing our song.
“THEY WOULDN’T LET YOUR FATHER OUT OF HEAVEN TO VISIT YOU”, SO SAYS MILLIE.
By Gail McNaughton, February 12, 2007
“They wouldn’t let your father out of Heaven to visit you”, so says Millie.
But he did come,
With a puff of cigarette smoke,
To the kitchen,
Where I am at home,
In the middle of household congestion.
He was hungry for company,
And knew,
That I’d smell his presence,
For I was used to spices and scents.
When I am one with the universe,
I am calm,
And our vibrational levels,
Almost collide,
But my dense emotions,
Are stirred in the soup pot,
With the potatoes and carrots,
And Dad only identifies with,
The steam essence of,
Who I am,
And not my shape and form,
Only my spirit.
It is enough for me,
Because my Dad’s presence,
In cigarette smoke,
Is all that I’ve ever known,
Since his death,
And it comforts me.
One day our two worlds,
Will mesh,
And I’ll see my Father,
Face to face.
He can always leave from Heaven,
For God makes all things possible,
For believers.
One day my Mother,
Will know the truth,
That God wants us to be one,
In spirit and form,
And to always be present,
With our loved ones.
By Gail McNaughton, September 4, 2012
Come to the harvest,
And stay with us forever.
Sit at our table,
And find comfort in friendship.
Be one in spirit,
As the bounty of what we grow,
Is shared by all.
The leaves gently falling,
Are a reminder that,
A season of Thanksgiving is upon us,
And that winter is just around the corner.
It is time for roast turkey, pumpkin pie,
Turnips, squash, potatoes and apples,
All sewn up it makes a wonderful harvest meal.
Our lives are bountiful,
And the markets filled with produce,
Remind us that we are rich,
With the rewards of our labour,
And our attention to the crops,
That we have nurtured,
With love in our hearts for the land,
And the people we serve.
It is our intention to feed our families, and communities,
And this is the mantra of the farmer,
And why we invest our time.
So come to the harvest,
And stay with us forever.
Sit at our table,
And find comfort in friendship.
Be one in spirit,
As the bounty of what we grow,
Is shared by all.
The Angel’s Wing & Mr. Moon
By Gail McNaughton, September 10, 2012
It was an early morning’s sky.
Not a cloud hanging around over my heart.
Mr. Moon though,
Was staring in wonderment,
At something across the lake.
An Angel had seemingly lost her wing in the sky.
It was left adrift floating like a cloud,
And anchored itself in the trees,
Breathing love into the forest.
The birds chirped in excitement.
Fish danced to the surface.
Everything was fired up with excitement.
I could see a fawn and doe drinking at the water’s edge,
Along the rugged shoreline of rocks and driftwood.
A voice was heard in the wind,
And the Angel rested our fears,
Telling us she had taken off one wing,
To dip it in the cottage environment,
To refresh rejuvenate and fluff up her wing.
It had been worn a long time and needed nourishment.
It bathed in the sunlight,
With Mr. Moon fading his night face into the cosmos.
The Angel’s wing sparkled with the forest magnetism energizing it.
It was a downy white feather shape electrified,
By the voltage of the firefly flashlights they wore,
And toad stool magic.
It was cleansed in the shimmering lake.
The sunshine blew a kiss and the rays engulfed the wing.
The Angel appeared walking calmly in the forest,
With racoons, red squirrels, chipmunks and mice at her side.
Behind them were a moose, bear, red fox and an eagle.
They stood in the presence of this special Angel,
As the forest Fairies attached her wing.
Then, she unhooked the other one,
So that it could also enjoy the spirit of nature.
It wasn’t long before a blanket of rain,
Washed off star dust from the wing,
And it was scrubbed,
With sand crystals, fine stones and moss.
It too sparkled and glowed,
And covered its care givers like an umbrella,
So they were kept dry.
Again the Angel appeared,
And the fireflies helped her,
Descend gracefully from the old oak tree.
The Fairies hooked up this wing,
Turned her around three times to have a proud stare,
And after good-byes on each side, she was gone.
It rained for the rest of the day,
So this became bath day for all.
The forest critters used an assortment of Angel feathers,
To tickle one another in playful fun,
While frolicking in the rain and lake.
Nightfall predictably came once again,
And Mr. Moon said good night to his forest friends,
And bid them a good night’s sleep.
All was well as the Angel watched over the forest and her friends,
Sharing her love with them all in their dreams.
