I saw her a month ago
at the wedding of her son
so frail and stooped, but glad to know
his new life had begun,
though hers could soon be done;
beside her ailing form
the flowers were in bloom
we partied up a storm
but now the bride and groom
must deal with doom.
Again the blossoms stand replete
this time around an urn,
their heady fragrance bittersweet
belying how we yearn
for what cannot return.
Maternal love transcends
maturation's mask
with memories that never end
despite how much we bask,
what more can one ask?
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
It is a blessing that she did get to see the wedding of her son, but sad that a month later she died. But yes, maternal memories DO live forever; and no matter how old a person is I think everyone always misses one's mother (after she has died).
Hey Mary, yes it was sad to say the least. From one end of the spectrum to the other in a month.
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