I wrote this for my girlfriend who lost her mother very young. Every year as my family plans what to do for Mother's Day, I also think of her, who lay a wreath instead. It always seems to put the importance of the day, as well as every other I am blessed to have, into perspective.
I lay presents,
She lay wreaths.
I curse, take for granted and
She wishes she still could.
I tell myself there's always time
Without imagining there's not.
But I can see the truth in her:
Green eyes reflecting grass
Grown over memories.
Yes. Perspective is gained with lots of tears shed. I wish it were the other way around. I wish we could miss as much, what isn't gone. But we are only human after all. Lovely tribute Ben, to your girlfriend and the mother she misses so much.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Annie. I hand wrote her a copy of it.
Delete"I tell myself there's always time
ReplyDeleteWithout imagining there's not."
Dang, man. I'm guilty of this.
Good on you for this poem, really.
I think we all are in some ways.
DeleteI'd like to send this to a lot of people who don't appreciate their mothers and the time they have with them.
ReplyDeletePlease do :-)
Delete