Twila... Great. I have already emailed it. I have another poem, Grandmother left in her book... ................. L I F E When I was young my slippers were red, I could kick my feet clear over my head. Then I grew older and slippers were blue, but still I could dance the whole nite through. Now I am old and my slippers are black, I walk to the corner and puff my way back. The reason I know that my youth has been spent, my get-up and go, has got-up and went, but really I don't mind, when I think with a grin, of all the grand places my get-up has been. (by Mrs. Scott Dalton-IL.) Sallye