Dizain Contest
When a mother dies, her family sighs
Speeches are made, funeral orations
You seek to know why, then break down and cry
Circle the wagons: close friends, relations
Comfort from flowers -- roses, carnations...
The hours move slowly; then days become weeks
The return to routine at first seems bleak
Yet as time passes, a curtain's lifted
From on high to her brood, Mom again speaks
Love abidingly deep ~ Heaven-gifted
December 15, 2019
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