RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Seen through wisps of hair, blowing around my eyes.
A sleek, white jet seems to just be sitting in space.
Flying swiftly, on an even roll of air it looks beautiful - way up there.
Closer in, my view is of an old tree, with yellowed leaves catching a morning breeze.
And closer still, oleanders moving back and forth, keeping time with a rhythm only nature knows.
Sitting in my van, with door wide open, I watch this scene with peaceful joy and happiness, closer even than before.
Thinking to myself - Mom would've loved seeing it!
She is gone now as my memory will one day be.
So writing everything down will preserve the two for eternity.
When I am no longer here, you will see me still - on a piece of paper - with my Mom right beside me in a poem.
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