Dear Mom when I was young
I sat at your knee
You would tell me great stories
Ones that I could see
Stories of old
Stories of the Wild West
Stories of grandpa
I loved best
You told me stories
Peeling apples in your lap
You told me stories
Then lay down for a nap
You told me of peace
How to be a friend
And of love
Close to the end
You never doubted me
You told me the truth
You let me feel older
I (was) but a youth
You made me feel wanted
You did it all the time
Even when you scolded me
You did it in a rhyme
You play games with me
That I didn’t know were games
Telling me all people
Wanted and needed the same
You would brush your hair at night
And put on a little cap
Then ask for a kiss on your head
From this little chap
You did these things over and over again
Then one day you were no more
But my visits to you would not end
For even after all these years
I come to see you
My friend
Happy Mother’s Day Mom
Mother
The sweet smell of death floated
Across the funeral parlor room
As life went on outside the tomb
The smile on the face was faded and pale
As a choir of people cried and wailed
Tears of the child rolled down a cold powdered cheek
The wooden floor moaned and creaked
The confusion of the child longed to speak
What is death…when life is no more?
As patiently the choir filed out the door
Then reassembled in a place barren and cold
Upon the rocks there stories are told
Good-bye Mother
As they lowered her down
The child was lost
As the choir stood around
Back at home the child told to play
Don’t be lonely on this cold-cold day
The child grew
And remembered that time
His mother lived on
Inside his mind
And he remembered for such a long time