I cannot see you but I know you’re here
for the wind whispers your name
and the mockingbird high in the mesquite
mimics the blackbird’s song in memory.
The roses in the garden yearn for your thumb,
for they’ve grown weary of my futile attempts
to nurture with love and care as you did when you lived.
A summer storm came through and took
the Italian Cypress we planted so many years ago
For the trees and you I cried for days, remembering.
The azure sky is the color of your eyes when you smiled…
but when the reaper arrived they were misty grey,
and I knew with that glimpse of somber shade
that you were drifting, fading away.
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
Author’s Note: On this day 7 years ago, my mother passed away. There is not a day goes by that she is not with me in my heart.