Memories of mother
Mothers Day always trips sadness
in me since her death years ago;
impelling a circuitous
journey of memories that flow
within a stream of consciousness
always the same, unabated.
It’s queer how an act of congress
can regress a mind effected
in such a way as to cause tears.
I guess stranger things have happened
and will happen over the years.
Though measured in nanoseconds
these yearly memories of her
are all that remains of mother.