the birthday/a poem
This should have been a special occasion, my perfect day, instead I mourn the loss, of the mother who passed away.
There will be no flowers for me, only the ones on her grave, no gifts, or party favors, only the memories that were made.
No cake or lighted candles, to take away the pain, her presence will shadow my life, as long as the seasons change.
Instead of a celebration, I watch a hearse go by, and instead of people smiling, tears fill their eyes.
There won’t be any gifts wrapped in ribbons or bows, when my soul will mend, only God will know.
The birthday I’ll remember, the one that stands apart, The day I buried my mother, will live within my heart.