BITTERSWEET A Fading rose before me lies, In hint of glory past. And while I know it soon must die I long for it to last. Ah! Sweet flower, how you impart A simple trusting grace As you embrace with open heart A desperate darkened place. From out a bond we once did share Now suffered loss endures. A day of mourning I declare Though dating’s premature. Grief inside me has no color, No particular place; It trickles out, from day to day, In tears upon my face. By Sherry Miller 2005 |  |
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NavigationStories and Thoughts about MommaMy Mother has inspired not only my art, but my writing. I have two blogs that I have posts about Momma. Some are stories from the past and others were written during the time my Mother's health was becoming more and more delicate.
http://fourchances.wordpress.com/2008/03/13/mommas-cake/ http://crepusculum60.wordpress.com/2008/02/28/never-goodbye/ http://crepusculum60.wordpress.com/2008/02/10/momma/ http://crepusculum60.wordpress.com/2008/10/07/facing-a-reality/ http://fourchances.wordpress.com/2008/12/04/i-remember-momma/ |
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