RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Tears glistened many-colored memories, waving gently
in the heated breeze.
Reflecting feelings unknowingly, tugging teardrops from
my heart, bringing them to my moist blue eyes.
Wanting very much to reach out in happiness and become a
part of Christmas cheer, I find I cannot.
Something's holding me in sadness - embracing me with
softened hands, yet showing me the loneliness - the hell
that life is, now that Mom is no longer here.
Mom was the light in all our hearts, the tinsel blowing
gaily with every breeze, the Christmas balls reflecting
all who passed by with friendly eyes.
Mom was the star - the angel - always on top of the tree,
shining her love down upon us - her children.
We miss her very much.
Life is sad now that she's gone.
The top of all our Christmas trees has burnt out.
Now we just lay wreaths and flowers upon a plot of ground.
With no idea of where or why our Mom is gone.
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