Fresh is the breath of spring,
Drops of dew from moistened air
Glisten from reflected light,
Morning, the sun makes me aware.
The time for novel life is now,
Robins, leaves, and bees are here,
So is the smell of patchwork lawns
Having been mowed, front to rear.
Do I chance to stir and rise?
Legs are heavy, teared eyes worn,
But I dare not miss this wakeup call,
Today is special, no time to mourn.
A daughter, her feet tapping
The floor outside my door,
Go away haunting pain,
If one is there, there must be more.
And yes, they soon appear,
All three, they jump, they leap,
They know this is the month
We have promises to keep.
Spring brings both growth and life,
It beckons us to keep our sacred date
To celebrate memories of a mother, a wife
Who left too early, could she not wait?
Three daughters and father
Visit her open-air home,
Kneeling on granite cleaning the stone,
Now she is dressed, not so alone.
Grief can linger, it does not grow old
But this day in May, it is time to dwell
On happier times and memories held,
For mother, and wife, knows all is well.
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