“I love, love, love you,”
you sang to me
In your last fragile days,

I love, love, love you, Mom.

You left too quietly
careful not to wake your child.

But I will always see you–
sketching at the lake’s edge.

on the horizon, phthalo blue,
crimson red ignites
your autumn, raw pigment
mutes your ocean storm

These were your colors
a lifetime of blended hues…

You have left me a white moon
scrubbed across an unfinished canvas.

But one frail hand reaches out
from beneath your fleece throw:
“You’re a very satisfying daughter.”
And inside, I am reaching up

to thank you
for showing me beauty
in the broken shell

For all you’ve done for me,
for others for who you are,
for gracing me as my mother.

© Sandra Tyler 2016

View Guest Contributor Sandra Tyler’s bio is HERE

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