Copyright # 1842403. All Rights 08/08/2026, Constance La France
Penned, August 08, 2026/ Human Written For the International Contest, The Beautiful Impossible Sponsor, Sotto Poet, Judged 09/02/2026
"FIRST PLACE"
I know it cannot exist but my mother is with me, she is talking, laughing and smiling; we are chatting in her garden like we always did, it is impossible because she died years ago, and all that remains is an empty chair. But, everything seems real and just as it was, we take a walk among the flowers; admiring the blooms and commenting on the hues, it is impossible because she left me years ago, leaving a wound that becomes a window. She is serious now, you must promise me child, you will always have a garden; and remember to wear my favorite rose pink color, it is impossible because I wept at her funeral, it is a door that refuses to close. I sat beside her bed as she slept in peace, in the quiet she opened her eyes; hi mom, I say . . . I love you dear she tells me, it is "possible" because it is exactly what happened. And then, she left me . . . and I suddenly realized, the poem that I thought was about mother; is about me _ about what she taught me, to be strong, have courage and to go on without her.
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