“May I please, pick just one rose, for Mama?”
“If we pick them, they will not bloom for long.”
“Just one rose, I want it so,~~ for Mama!”
“Just one,~~ and be careful for the thorns.”



And so together we harvested
A single rose of yellow hue,
And found a vase that would give
That perfect rose its due.



Lovingly ~~~ it was carried
Close to her aching breast,
And gently laid upon the stone
Where her Mom was laid to rest.



“Did my question seem too simple?”
“Did my plea betray my age?”
“No, my dear, it only signaled
The price of losing Mom you paid.”



“For when we lose our Mothers,
When Jesus takes them up above,
We become like little children,
And all we want is Mother's Love.”



“Faith and time will get you
To a place where you can see;
That you NEVER do get over
Losing Mom till eternity,



But you do get ‘used’ to it,
The pain that loss has been,
And revel in the memories
Your heart holds within."

 Karen
© May 6~2006