The First Mother’s Day

by  Edward Reed

The first Mother’s Day when your mother is gone, they say is the hardest

When all you have is memories to keep you company

Memories still fresh in your mind from when she was close

Close and with you no matter how far away

Like ship set free she is gone for the first time and for all time

Gone never to return but in a dream or in a whisper on the wind.

It’s a beautiful and fitting time of year for remembering

Remembering when the warm sunshine glows bright on the flowers of spring

On roses, and azaleas, honeysuckle and wisteria too

Flowers growing wild in the shadows of tall trees

Bitter and sweet they will all be, these days when your mother is gone

The first Mother’s Day when your mother is gone, they say is the hardest