Happy Birthday, Mom - Part IV: Precious As A Flower

[Randyjohnson]

It was wonderful to have a mother who was so great.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned sixty-eight.
When you became ill and died, everything went sour.
But while you lived, you were as precious as a flower.

Pink was your favorite color so you were buried in a pink dress.
I felt lost when you died but while you lived, I was truly blessed.
Nobody could've been a better mother than you.
You were one in a billion and that certainly is true.

When you became ill, I wanted you to get well but sadly, you could not.
I had to learn to live without you but I still miss you a lot.
I told you how much that I love you during your final hours.
Happy Birthday Mom, while you lived, you were as precious as a flower.

[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]

[tinkerjack]

Thank you for writing this "touchy poem" it touched me

I could ramble on for a thousand words here and not be able to expres how i felt on the 22nd of november 1984 just moments before sunrise when I heard her draw her last breath
Thank you for bringing her memory back to me. thanks for the poetry.

I still remember the first dream I had about my mother after her death
It marked the end of the mourning process for me. They say artists poets have a blessing in that their creative drive makes it possible to . . . ? damn damn my geezer memory — I have to find the link to a article about James Joyce and Freud be back when I find the link. please pardon my ramble

The Article was titled "Mourning and Melancholia" if you are curious you can check it out here. Somehow I am not the Freudian I used to be after reading Sylvia Plath's "Journals"