The Last Token
They couldn’t visit her for Christmas
Busy at work is what they said
As a token of appreciation
They sent roses pink and red
They couldn’t visit on Easter Sunday
The kids came down with a chill
They missed the pastor award her with
A token of goodwill
They couldn’t visit on Mother’s Day
Her son had to do a big report
He’d forgotten his career took off
because
She was his token of support
They couldn’t visit on July Fourth
To watch fireworks up above
She never looked inside the box they sent
It read as a token of our love
They all came to her funeral
Cried as prayers were spoken
Their mother had passed alone
and for that, there was no token
03/22/2021
Written for: The Last Token Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
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