Precious Times

over times that are past,

when I held my mother's hand,

and when I made her laugh.

We walked and saw flowers

and listed to the birds;

She couldn't always understand,

but love didn't need words.

Even in the dark times,

when we were up through the night,

why didn't I see it?

Everything was right.

Why did I give up

and send her to a home?

She sat alone for a while,

and now she is gone.

--April 1996