and I was inspired to write a poem about her..
Most people wait until your died and can't hear the things people loved about
you which seem a little unfair to me. So I wrote this for my Mother in honor of
her life and she got to hear it.
And of course she loved it, I did write it... You know Mom's they love just
about very thing you do..
I was sick alot in my life and Mother would read to me. She would shop and
bring me joke books and story books and read them all. She was the first adult
in a crowded room of adults that would listen to your news when you were a child
or teen or even an adult.
She was a painter and her paintings would inspire a story that would tell a
yare.
She would sing with the birds in the yard and help inspire you to poetic
verse.
Almost like a modern day Snow White, that is my Mom.
She loved the squriels in the yard when she was a child. One would eat out of
her hand.
Yes, I know Snow White or Cindella again..
And even as a grandmother or great grandmother she would drew pictures on the
Florida beach with me and my kids. And then playing and chating with her great
granddaughter reminds me of my yesterdays sitting and reading in my mothers
lap.
I hope you find the inspiration to write one about your Mother's love.
Remember your Mother will love it even if it's bad. Why, Because you wrote
it...
Thanks for reading and enjoy. my dearest journal readers.
Sauce of Life
I don’t remember her best for pies,
Like her sister, but for the sauce, you don’t cook,
A sauce of life that sparked childish eyes,
Let me give you a look.
The pictures that we spoke,
And the many childhood jokes,
She listened to them all,
Because she knew the recipe for our youthful dreams that
call.
No, Not for pies,
But for a sauce that sparked childish eyes.
Her own were close at hand,
In the painted colors she carried us into enchanted land.
And as we viewed the wonder of the land,
And draw pictures in the sand.
No, Not for pies,
But for a sauce that sparked childish eyes.
She saw a bluebird singing in the tree,
So she made lyrics to add to our childish eye glee.
And fed the squirrels with poetic verse,
While we dance in the kitchen just to rehearse.
No, Not for pies,
But for a sauce that sparked childish eyes.
She goes shopping for the colors that would bring you
cheer,
When you lay sick in bed my dear,
Then read you stories all that day,
Since you couldn’t go out and play.
No, Not for pies,
But for a sauce that sparked childish eyes.
And with that sauce of life flowing,
She will add it to a new enchanted land all a glowing,
For all the children that never knew,
They will see the colors of her painted view.
Can’t you hear the little angels sigh,
Just as she adds her sauce for life to spark the littlest
angles childish eyes.
Copyright ©2009 Michelle Reid