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Personal Note:

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Poem


I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
rolling them over and over and over
leaving this reality behind, far behind...

Oh, magic rocks, please sweep me back in time-
back then, some fifty-four years in the past,
when she was young and meant to stay with me
and tell me things she wanted me to know.

Yes, Mother dear, I miss your gentle love-
the time we shared- so much we liked to do.
But there were many things I hoped to learn
about your youth you did not get to share.

I never heard about your childhood dreams
or how you spent those crazy teenage years.
I know so little of your life before
you met my loving Dad- who's with you now.

Back then, as a young wife and mother too,
I did not dwell on thinking of your past;
you would have told me later had you stayed-
not knowing future years would never be.

Not knowing that her time so soon would end,
please- magic rocks now sweep me back in time
so I can ask these questions haunting me;
Oh, magic rocks- please journey me back home.

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