FOR MY MOTHER

I can't believe it is almost ten years since I wrote this piece for my Mother, and although it is autumn now it reminded me of another Sunday morning in Spring.

ROSES IN SPRINGTIME

It is springtime and my garden looks a picture,

The roses are blooming and there is perfume in the air.

How I would love to bring some roses to you

And tell you of my care!

Although I cannot do this, I’ll pick them just the same

And sit and think of times together spent.

Of laughter, tears and sharing

And all that it has meant.

I pick them and place them in a vase close by

And am pensive and gather you in thought.

I remember the care and pain

And the lessons that you taught.

We did not always see things eye to eye but felt

Things heart to heart it’s true.

And now looking at my garden

Reminds me ~ I miss you.

To bring these blossoms to you would bring me pride,

To tell you of their colours – their fragrance would be smelt.

This would bring a special closeness

A tenderness would be felt.

You could not see these flowers but your hands would touch each petal

And through my eyes you would see their beauty true.

And I would describe in detail

Each rose I’d picked for you.

You did not see my children, although they stood beside you.

And now that they are grown I know you would take pride

In all they are and have become~

A joy you would not hide.

So on this springtime Sunday morning, accept the gift I offer

It is not just flowers from my garden – it’s love and thanks I bring.

I know you came by this way

I felt the bird’s soft wing.

© Linda J. Vaughan 

 October 21 2001