Estelle Paris Lebanon, Pennsylvania

My name is Estelle Marie Paris. My birthdate is July 5, 1942. I am the youngest of 7 children; 3 sisters are now in Heaven. I am Catholic, and have been married 28 years. This is my second marriage, and my husband’s also. Between us, we have 9 children. I love to read, and to write poetry and funny children’s stories My only published poem is “An Invitation for Pussy Cats.” I love cats. I also love music from the 30’s to the 60’s. I dedicate my exhibit to my husband, Gilbert D. Paris, and my best friend Barbara Ackerson.

An Invitation For Pussy Cats My arms are wide open and my heart is filled with love for tons of pussy cats and my one turtle dove. My place is small but I don’t care. I’ll take a pussy cat from any old where. In the daytime, or in the night. You must all promise you will not fight. I’ll treat you all kindly and listen to you purr. I’ll gently pat you on the head as I brush your lovely fur. I care not about your color. I care not about your breed. Oh my little kitties, if only you could read. Toys a plenty to chase around the house. Who knows, I might even have a toy mouse. So remember little kitties my place is just for you. Come kitty kitty I’m here waiting for you. Just meow at my door. It will open. See, you’ll be lonesome no more.

Pennies! What good are found pennies many may ask. To bend and pick them up is such a task. To pick one up you can’t go far. One cent is all they are. A penny here, a penny there. Ooh what a horrible thought! Never does one think of what could be bought with that poor little penny no one seems to see. Find a penny and pick it up and as they continue to grow, you can then look at what you have to show. As others step over them, please bend down and pick up that penny sitting there on the ground. Soon you can say, “Look at all I’ve found.” Buy something nice for all to see. When asked how much it cost, just say it was no loss. It only cost “Pennies!”

Why, Mommy, Why? Why, Mommy, why must you do this? I’ve barely just begun. I’ll never be allowed to have any fun. The world is full of colors which I may never see. The world is full of food my tummy wants to try. Why, Mommy, why? Plenty of food I want to taste. Why put me to waste. The crime is bad. This I know. I promise I’ll be one you will be proud to show. Why do I have to go? I’m here for a reason yet unknown, but will that reason forever be blown? Seasons come, seasons go. Are they pretty? Will I ever know? I continue to grow as each day goes by. I continue to pray but yet I ask, “Why, Mommy, Why?”

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