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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required My thoughts let go of a thousand memories, Like faces, dates, times and places; Yet, I can recall each and every detail, On the day of your funeral. (. . .and my mind takes me back through the tattered pages of my life to a place of warmth, security and love . . . . .) O the grieving . . . In the middle of a snow storm I followed, And the wind blew back my long hair; As we meandered down a winding cold path, The wild wind paused in the trees. ( . . O, my mother's kitchen with it's big cupboards and old stove and a blue teapot on the kitchen table and grandma telling me of life, of people in the family long dead . . . ) O the weeping. . . Snowflakes fell on me from the tangled branches, Falling like crying tears cascading down; I am lost and moaning in this forever, ever memory, And now the snow drifts in the cemetery. (. . . and it was at that same table that I read my first poems while sipping tea and father coming in from shovelling snow in winter all bundled up . . . ) O the sadness . . . A headstone is buried deep in the pure white, And but one engraved word is revealed; In this pristine cold, dead winter wonderland, Only one word can be seen, MOTHER, Hidden beneath the snow. (. . . a warm fireplace waiting within then at night in an attic room this little girl was tucked in with forever loving hands, hugs and kisses . . .) O the lamenting . . . I will treasure your arms last embrace, mother, till this heart stops beating . . . __________________________________ February 19, 2015 Poetry/Free Verse/''oh the memories, memories'' Copyright Protected, ID 02-641-987-19 All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France Submitted to the Standard contest, Memories sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron, Judged 03/2015 Second Place
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