"Winter’s Rose"
(In memory of my mother, Margaret Anne)

Dust particles dancing in the sunset
settle on the chair where yesterday you sat
It is a brief moment of eternal beauty
witnessed through my tears of grief.

The air is perfumed with remnants of you
the cat goes from room to room, searching
the dog lays by your chair, waiting, listening
and one bright rose blooms beyond winter’s window.

The sun has bid farewell and the stars begin to play,
one races across the sky ...a supernova making room
for tonight a new star has been called home.

Now who will prop me up and dry my tears?
Who will have the answers to my many questions?
You will Mom, I will look to the stars ...and you will.

© Marcia Miller-Twiford