On this Memorial Day, I recollect the days of my mother's presence;
Encouraging me, loving me unconditionally, the only way I could be loved.
For my days of exploration, of expanding my borders, of reaching high;
Had to be tempered with spiritual grounding, a balance she helped me to
find.
She rejoiced in my successes and rose up mightily to protect my fledgling
days,
So I could do the things in life that she herself gave up, in order to see
me through.
She loved me and proved it; watching over me when I was sick and hurting;
Crying for me when I was bad, but giving me room to find my own way.
I too was there when she needed me; an adult with a family of my own; I was
there,
When she was tired and needed assistance, when her priorities had changed
And her welfare was no longer her top concern, I made it my own. My family
loved her, assisted her,
Cooked for her, met her needs; satisfied her wants until her time was
complete. I will never forget!
The End
Go on to next poem by Mark Edgemon: It's Hard To Feel Anything, When You're Self Absorbed
Return to: The Works of Mark Edgemon
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