Three Months

It is a bright day,
cool, full of promise
the men came to mow yesterday--
as I heard their machines hum I thought of you--
so short a time, how could this be--
yet it seems forever
Time suspended yet the days passing
and still so many things here remind me you
are not here, mom.
Your clothes, unused
your voice unheard
your self unseen
for you have gone where I can't go,

We talk of you, we who remain
daughters remembering
each with private pictures of you
each grieving in her own way--we laugh,
then we cry
It wasn't easy to see you die.

...and we miss you
your voice stilled,
your hands free to do what they will
(perhaps they hold our dad's hands,
he so long gone--he must be glad to have you there).
Maybe you visit our kin long gone;
I hope they love you, for we do
and always will.

Mom, wherever you are,
I'm still here and think of you
I am comforted by the fact you didn't hurt
when your time came, but oh!
I wish there were a phone line
where we could talk...
don't worry, we wil ltake care of each other
and we will
remember.
I