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sorrow is my scar that I keep hidden deep within my heart from the world
it never heals but will bleed forevermore when I think of you mother dear
and I do . . we lived in a fine house with a garden full of beautiful flowers
we took care of them together drinking tea in the shade and we would talk
I loved our country drives and how we always got lost (but discovered lots)
I miss your laughter like church bells ringing although you battled illness
mom you were the most courageous person I have or will ever know
as a child you held me close whispering I love you every single day
as a teenager and young woman you forgave me everything I did
as an adult you were my anchor . . . the reason I am this me
and when you lay sick and dying that was my hand holding
and since that day you left me I float like a drifting cloud
I would like to go back to your garden, mother dear
and lay among your scented flowers
I would gather all of them up . . .
oh, wait at Heaven's gate
I will come one day
or is that a fairy
tale, I tell
June 1, 2018
Poetry/Narrative/sorrow is my scar
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1028-163-01
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