My Mother

Her Father and brother appear smaller and smaller through the tear blurred back window of the Austin A40 the separation of Mother and Father was for her good... so they said. The memory scars the heart dulls the feminine senses. These graves in the mind bring her strength of soul. The wisdom of her times are transferred by affection and not words of advice. Her flowered kitchen apron expresses her love and mind. Her faith in Christ: her strength yet purpose are preached by wordless sermonettes. This is a life that reaches deep into the unreachable . No fuss But chivalrous.