Final Gift

The small boy brings a single flower,
A daffodil picked from the yard
And presents it to his mother,
And she weeps - she weeps because
She knows he has given her all he has,
All he has to offer and with no
Motive other than his love.

The mother's eyes no longer have tears,
And I weep - I weep because the
Moment is gone when bouquets of roses
With the sweetest of fragrance can be
Presented for no other reason
Than the pleasure they bring.

Now my gift is all I have to offer.
Garlands so readily woven, yet carelessly
Denied when days were warm, now
Serve only to soften a lingering guilt.
Just know, my Mother, on this earth you
Are remembered - and shall by my children
And theirs and theirs to be.
   
                                    rlkilgore