Now every June will come and go
Without the mother I loved so.
The painful struggle she endured
With grace....I felt so hopeless, Lord.
When Spring comes 'round again next year
Only memories I'll have near.
Please take the bitter, leave the sweet,
Then hopeful may each Spring I greet.
Copyright ©2004 Pene Burkey
Comments about this poem (June by Pene Burkey )
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