Its Mother’s day today and flowers, in their bright array,
are popular gifts to give to Mom on this her special day.
While they still thrive the air is sweet; redolent of both rain and Sun.
Eventually their beauty fades though a Mother’s beauty never does.
They are a small enough return for the gift of a Mother’s love.
They are symbol and remembrance too, for those whose Mothers rest in peace.
In their petals, soft like her cheek, lurk remembered fragrances
Stirring memories which make us weep

When I was a child of five I bought a flower for my mom.
It was a fragile little thing but I was glad that she seemed charmed.
The years of our shared lives flew fast, like decades of her rosary.
She is resting now beside my Dad; for now and all eternity.
Some photographs and books are all I have of what she left to me.
Imagine how I felt today when I found this in her breviary-
Pressed petals of that long dead rose; a cherished gift from her young son.
It made a grown man weep for words unsaid and deeds left undone.

Now, I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah­
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Halleluja­h
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Halleluj­ah
Hallelujah
Songwriters: Leonard Cohen

by
Gordon Lightfoot


The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after she'd gone
I remember it well
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
Her long flowing hair came softly undone
And it lay all around
And she brushed it down as I stood by her side
In the warmth of her love
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And we played a game only she could win
And she told me a riddle I'll never forget
Then left with the answer I've never found yet
"How long", said she, "Can a moment like this
Belong to someone?"
"What's wrong, what is right, when to live or to die
We must almost be born"
So if you should ask me what secrets I hide
I'm only your lover, don't make me decide
The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after she'd gone
I remember it well
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And we played a game only she could win
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
Songwriters: Gordon Lightfoot

Both Advance one death at a time;
Religion by the blood of her martyrs.
Science, by the death of those
who cling to the exploded
Theories of the past

Our friend Joe sure loved baseball, and his heart pumped Dodger blue
He played the game when he was young, then watched once he was through.
He’d travel around to one horse towns to scout the minor leagues.
He’d carry baseballs and a pen for the autographs he’d need.
In winter he’d watch hockey when no baseball could be found.
(I think that he was marking time time until spring came around.)
Nothing beats hearing the Umpire shouting out  ”play ball!”
How perfect is the diamond, the lush grass and the blue walls?
If we get to choose our heaven no matter what our creed,
Joe would want a season ticket; that’s all he’d really need.
He’d sit and watch his favorite team with stars from years gone by.
He’d listen as the sym-phony played in Ebbets field on high.
Now Joe is gone and tears are shed by us who toil below.
But I prefer to think that  Joe’s been called up to the Show.

Our Earth is but a pale blue dot
When seen from Saturn’s rings.
Voyager took the photo
which I found among my things.
Our Earth is a fragile sapphire
in the immensity of space.
I think we should take care of it
For we have no other place.

After the burial service
and after the meal for the guests.,
The old man returned home.
He felt badly in need of a rest.

He entered into the room they had shared
for all their years before.
It was faintly redolent of her favorite perfume,
but his Love wasn't here anymore.

Alone in their room,  the old man shed some tears;
He had shown a brave face to the World.
Now, all alone, he permitted his grief
to pour out for the loss of his girl.

He fell down on his knees by the side of their bed
but all efforts at prayer were undone
when he saw  on the wall a photo of her,
back in the days they were young.

That night he slept in the room down the hall.
The room they has saved for a guest.
There were too many memories in their marriage bed
for the old man to get any rest.

In his sleep he had dreams  of an ancient Greek myth
when the gods gave an old couple grace:
To spare death and mourning they were turned into trees.
There together both firmly rooted in place.


His son came the next day to see how he was
For his dad hadn't answered his calls.
He found Death had answered Dad's prayers
There in that room down the hall.

Love is a gift and Life is a challenge
Charon gives rides shore to shore.
The old man was blessed to have passed in his sleep
and was joined with his love evermore.