Thank You For The Flowers (For Mommy) Poem by Adrian Antique

Every time I hold a book, I remember her -
The first voice of my cradle,
Fragile in her age yet sturdy as a fire stone, my mother.

She now sleeps inside an antique-looking vase,
Although I know her spirit now rides the wind …
So, I keep these petals in my mind just in case.

Lilac and lavender, this is how she still looks to me -
Shades of white violet mixing with glass …
Stars of the night sky hanging on a tree.

That crown of red she placed in my pocket on my wedding day,
Those countless roses she wrote to me with her beautiful fingers,
This light blue ring of glory I wear in my heart every day,
And the golden specks I see in the eyes of passing strangers -

They are all those stories she made me discover
In the leaves of paper piled in her treasure box …
They are the sweet moments when she danced with my father …
And the many times she stood by me before doors with no locks.

So, thank you Mommy for the flowers you left us -
They still smile on the wooden shelves of our keeping,
Still live in the painted jars and open windows of our trust …
And always pinned to my sleeves whenever I'm scared of singing.

These days, I can no longer hold or kiss her hand,
But what I do have are her pages in my mind,
Her love in my heart, our garden in the sand …
And her voice when I read every tale I can find.