Her hands that served, her mouth curved in a smile,
she’d walk for you that long and extra mile–
my mother who would give her heart to you,
imbues this home with memories that do

not go away. I sit upon her chair,
and wear her winter coat of blue. So rare,
her brand of mothering, and I, blessed child
recall her voice melodious and mild.

She always whistled “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,”
took in stray dogs and cats. All girls and guys,
no matter what their age, were drawn to her,
but I’m the one who knew her love…for sure.