Mother

The memory keeper respectfully scribes this euology to Georgia's sweetest peach. Over three decades ago on a warm spring day, displayed was not emotion, but the "Mrs. American Beauty"s portrait. It ain't so until I see for myself, so I took a look. She looked mighty fine, no need to be hidden behind what the rest of the world saw. Now I can tell them that picture on the wall wasn't the best one of all. I remember Better ones I no longer have. At sixteen she wore a long white dress with a dozen Red roses and a piece of paper tied with a red ribbon. I salute the proud woman Standing tall dressed blue. Later a mother without makeup holds me in her arms. She holds my brother's hand as he wore a cowboy suit and hat. The Southern Belle of the Ball is still on the wall with the brown curls cut and dyed The dark of night. I remember rides in boats and her notes floating in the air filled With seagulls cries and they ask why the song bird was put in a cage. Thrice engaged she kept on ringing the wedding bells until Hell's rage killed her, Fueling the fire into the Devil's words. Her beautiful heart was heavy with so many Epithets. She missed her second Dad and a boy in a cowboy hat. No more words to sing as her loving lungs collapsed, as she headed for God's Forgiving Heaven, toe-tagged Jane Doe, nobody special. Everyone should have Known she was June like her birth month. Beautiful inside. A warm summer night.