Poetry

The morning dew settles
like tears on rose petals.
They cry out for time to return -
and beckon lost seasons
of God-given reasons
as sad notes on my guitar yearn.
 
You're queen of the givers.
It brings to me shivers
that I was so selfishly made.
Your name defines 'humble'
as my words now crumble
on flowers that I now invade.
 
Your hands were like Heaven,
unselfishly given,
beyond just the people you knew -
from city to country,
from wealthy to hungry -
and all of the rest of us too.
 
As butterflies flutter,
I still try to utter
some truth of your beautiful love.
But now, it is just us -
and words don't bring justice
as sunlight spills down from above.
 
Those simple deflections
of sunlight's reflections
now glimmer like diamonds at play -
in memories briefly
that I see routinely
as if they were just yesterday.
 
I am not deserving
of all I'm observing
in memories coming to mind -
surrounded by perfume
with roses in full bloom
recalling that you were most kind.
 
I'll always remember
that freezing December
when I erred and brought you to tears.
When you found me straying,
for me, you were praying -
and over the many long years.
 
Some mothers are brand new,
but none can compare to
my rose-petal mother, that's true.
While laughter was looming,
our smiles were blooming.
There's none other better than you.
 
I do so adore you -
shall always continue.
I'd never trade you for another.
Up deep from the earth-plow,
what words can I sing now?
I love you, my rose-petal mother.
 
Alive still, your caring,
through rose petal sharing.
So many, I can't see them all.
Afloat on the breezes,
each rose petal eases
the pain of the weak as they fall.
 
Your petals continue
to live on without you.
They float around ever so free.
Like soft downy feather,
I don't wonder whether
some petals will fall upon me.
 
It's not at all easy
to sing thoughts so deeply
when sung with my dusty guitar.
I find I've distorted
all good you're recorded.
My rose-petal mother, you are.
 
And it's not by my choice
I miss hearing your voice,
so moistness now covers my eyes.
With fingers still strumming
I hear myself humming
while words get choked up in my cries.
 
With eyes very blurry
I'm now in no hurry
to vacate this most sacred place.
I can't be more lonely.
I wish I could only
receive one more loving embrace.
 
I love you so deeply
that when I am sleepy
see rose petals filling the sky.
My rose-petal mother,
my rose-petal mother,
I'll see you in Heaven...  Bye bye.
 
©2017 louis gander