Looking through old photos,
I’m stopped in my tracks.
The moment we first said hello
As she rocked me to and fro.
In a blink of an eye,
It seems I was born.
A heavy heart and a sigh,
Fourteen years later, I would mourn.
Time with her was far too short,
A mother’s love never dies.
Memories safely locked away
Recalling her voice, quieting my cries.
The story of my first image
Is of love without an end,
A closeness that won’t diminish –
The origins of my first true friend.
© S. Reed
I speak more of my grieving process here