I have a picture of my mom... in front of me...

with her sweet, happy smile...

Sitting, holding his hand, there at her side.

She is happy in this picture.

The music is flowing now,  perfect for the time,

realizing her feeling that way,

in that moment.  Such a sweetness.

And back in my memory banks, I picture butterflies

and my mother's sweet voice telling me about them,

and other wondrous parts of spring time when clover is grown,

the meadows were green...

and she was happy.

July 1996