A TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER

Reflections of love
Like ripples
In time
Reaching shore
Take me home.

I wind the clock
And memories
Wiping tears
In lullabies
Make me secure.

The dew of morning
Hanging helplessly
Flows together
In streams of grace
And youth is strong.

I see the old oak
Bent with time
As leaves begin to fall
Wrinkled
Spent
But firm.

Yesterday's hopes
Planted in springtime
Yield blooms
Of purpose
As harvest fruit.

While the graying
At sunset
Beckons her
To yonder Shore
This priceless gift
My mother.
--B. Pent