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Words For Mother

It was an early day in May
When Death had cast his wings
But never did I think or or say
The travelof such things.

How cold the breast and color pale
About her precious skin
And the whence had all the heat
That used to live within?

So thought about in every way
Of triumphing another day…

So solemnly I sat and wept
Of all the memories I kept.

An instant just as passing by
I hadn’t chance to say goodbye

So words upon this paper be
All I writ to set her free;

Though every thought and utterance
Can never truly say
Or tell of all the love for thee
I have in every day.

Published inMain

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