MEMORIES OF MY MOM
As still as stone
The morning
A dusty blue
Over the mountains
The cloud filled sky
Outside my studio window
A gentle breeze moves the sage
Memories of you
The color of your eyes
Your kindness
Your touch
You were my Mother
All my days
Once again
You are here
I take a deep breath
June 16, 2018
Another midpoint in another month brings us once again to the 55, that meme originated by the one and only Galen Hayes in what has to be called the dim recesses of blog history, when so much was so different…except the rules, which remain the same: link your 55 words of prose or poetry, no more no less, in the comments below between Friday and Saturday at midnight, and I will be by to read.
annellannell 
This is quite beautiful, annell. Love is the last thing we forget, and the thing we remember most as we age, I think. Thanks for playing.
Thanks for your comments.
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This is so lovely….the description of the stillness of the desert, the breeze moving the sage, and your mother’s eyes, her kindness………..such a lovely poem, my friend.
Why thank you Miss Sherry. We have all been waiting for the predicted rain today. And it has come at last. It did rain for a little while, still looks like it might rain more. I hope so.
My Mother had those lovely blue grey eyes. And I was missing her this morning, as I do most everyday.
xoxoxox
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We never stop missing them, do we? I just know that at those moments, our loved ones have come to say ‘hello’. Beautiful.
That is a beautiful thought. Thanks so much.
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😊