In Memory Of Mary Lou Nester Baumgardner Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

Her hands are cold waiting for summer.
Her pulse is silent and sings no more.
Her eyes are shut and waiting to dream
of the promises beyond death's door.

Hyacinth blossoms cling to the grave,
a breath of spring for the sleeping dust.
Ashes to ashes, we all return,
relinquishing life because we must.

The spinning wheel must come to an end.
A flower unfolds and dies sublime.
The evergreen nods, pine needles fall,
and nothing escapes the hands of time.

Her lips have fallen like autumn leaves.
Her cheeks are pale as the winter snow.
A flower lost, faded, and broken -
her petals wither where wild winds blow.