Mom

The morning is withering grey
the sky is in dreary gloom.
You said to strive to be happy
but can I reach for bluer blooms?

Two weeks ago on your birthing day,
there came so many flowers.
Now I can’t bear to part with them;
here they rest, like fading towers.

Petals are dropping,
along the spring-blown floors
I clean them all up
but can’t seem to bring them
out winter’s doors.

A lily for your laughter
a rose for your bright cheek
a bluebell for your eyes
a sprig of baby’s breath…

for your sleep.

Mom, in my heart,
your light-filled bloom
I’ll ever
keep.

VanGoghSunflowersWiltingBlueVase-via-BBC.om(via-LiaThePoet.com-Bloomwords.com)

Image: lost sunflowers, by Van Gogh. Found via BBC.com article: “Rare Van Gogh Sunflowers image found” (4 September 2013)

***

RIP, lieve mamaatje. Ik hou van je nog zo. Je bent en zonnebloem in mijn hart. Daar zul je voor altijd bloeien; en daar altijt in mijn denken, “grow.”  xo bebe/njl