I slowly close my eyes,
Receding through gone by years,
Bring back thoughts of you,
Among the fresh flowing tears.



A kiss upon your rosy cheek,
A soft hand to caress my face,
The loving voice as you greet me,
Your aged movements etched in grace.



I long to feel your motherly touch,
Through no other can that special love flow,
Instead of standing close by your side,
In mournful memory I often go.



Sweet gentle, woman my dear Mother,
In rest below the granite stone,
I bring to you a rose in full bloom,
Though I know onward, you have gone.


Gayle Davis
2004 March 2 ©

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