The Flower Bed

he clipped a rose.
Fresh.
From his mother’s garden.

A small white rose
Surrounded by nature’s claws.
A garden no weed can know.

he held onto the stem,
Wet from red tears,
That ran through his innocent hands.

his eyes,
White and dry,
Held the gaze of his mother.

Just the way he held the rose,
She was fading,
And he couldn’t imagine letting her go.

Lace-Covered Love

He sat at her side.
And tugged at her skirt.
The waves in her ruffles
He swam in his hurt.

A kiss upon his forehead
Like dew drops on a rose.
The warmth she offered
He did not oppose.

Clothed in
Lace-covered love
She stroked his wet face.
He, a scared little dove.

With callused hands,
A mother's touch,
She calmed his pain.
It took not much.

Photograph by Etsy