“The seamstressWith fingers weary and worn,And eyelids heavy and red, Long after the house sleeps, Still in her chair she sits.Her needle flickering, in-out,Daylight nears and the fire burns low,Alone with her shirt, still she sews.She, held prisoner by her thread,Her heads nods, but sleep forbids,Just one more seam or button two.Listen brothers, sons and husbands all, Call it not just cotton, linen or only wool, Count each stitch and say a prayer, For heart and soul that put them there.”

“God only knows what the doctor gave her. However,the medication has run out and she now must face the reality on her on accord.”

“Her blue eyes are full of tears, but she is smiling. Her expression is as bright as a newborn Christian.} one my favorite lines from Beyond Sandy Ridge.”

“Have you forgotten me?by Nancy B. BrewerThe bricks I laid or the stitches I sewed.I was the one that made the quilt; a drop of blood still shows from my needle prick.Your wedding day in lace and satin, in a dress once worn by me.I loaned your newborn baby my christening gown, a hint of lavender still preserved. Do you know our cause, the battles we won and the battles we lost?When our soldiers marched home did you shout hooray! Or shed a tear for the fallen sons. What of the fields we plowed, the cotton, the tobacco and the okra, too.There was always room at my table for one more, Fried chicken, apple pie, biscuits and sweet ice tea.A time or two you may have heard our stories politely told.Some of us are famous, recorded on the pages of history.Still, most of us left this world without glory or acknowledgment. We were the first to walk the streets you now call home,Perhaps you have visited my grave and flowers left,but did you hear me cry out to you? Listen, my child, to the voices of your ancestors. Take pride in our accomplishments; find your strength in our suffering. For WE are not just voices in the wind, WE are a living part of YOU!”

“Daddy-by Nancy B. BrewerWhen I used to say, speak up you are as good as they, You would just smile and say, let them have their way. When in my foolish youth, I so often disobeyed,He would just smile and say, let her have her way. When summer passed and winter overcame. He was not afraid, never once did he say. When in the moonlight his final hour came, He just smiled and said Lord I'll go your way.”

“She turned her painted blue eyes toward the assistant and said something in French before she left.”

“{In the shadows where the ancestors sleep, the bird's song is young, but all else is old. Stillness surrounds me and I breathe softly expecting the unexpected.} from book in progress”