I Have Things To Tell You, Mom
It took me hours and hours on the bus to arrive Mother,
and by the time I got to your tomb the red rose I picked
was wilted but still full of love. I have things to tell you Mom.
Sad things and happy things, things only you would understand.
Sitting on the grass amongst the tombs I trace your beautiful
name with my finger. And I remember . . .
all the times at the kitchen table when I told you my
worries and you listened and did not say a word until I finished.
And I would ask, Mom what should I do? Then you would say,
you know what to do . . .
Why did you always know what was in my heart and soul. Oh, the
countless times you sat upon the edge of my bed as I wept
over some silly thing. And those days in the garden when we
planted flowers and I told you of my day and dreams.
And how deeply we cried . . .
together when my baby died. Our hearts broken and forever
melted together. And even now, Mom, I imagine whispering
in your ear whenever I need you, I can almost hear your sweet
voice saying, you know what to do. I taught you well daughter,
so you could follow your own path . . .
________________________________
May 4, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/I have things to tell you, Mom
Copyright Protected, ID 05-669-177-04
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Submitted to the Premier contest, Best Free Verse
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place
__________________________
Written for the Standard contest, Mom's Ear,
sponsor, Craig Cornish, Judged 2015
First Place
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