Tuesday, July 10, 2007


When I was thirteen mother died
The rung I clasped by her left side
Closest to where her heart laid
Memories of her shall not fade
Brother and sister stood nearby
Filled with tears and sorrow
Under skies of coldest grey
In fields made of yarrow
Time had seemed to stand still
A fight against my inner will
Her burden was light for she was frail
A slight lifting of the veil
Where I could peer beyond horizons
A view of yonder days
I walk the path without her voice
In the silent maze
All that looks down upon me
For I am small indeed
With humble heart the journey ends
All my hopes and dreams were dashed
For this I must concede
I will rise above my rank
My slow ascent where I must go
To meadows where my mother's voice
Can clearly be a guide
In my mind she lives so brightly
As if she never died

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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