it's the gentleness
in her voice
that takes me back
to lullabies
of the golden harp

the strings plucked
like her vocal cords
sing soft chords
of grace

the curved physique
of her body
fits the mold
of an angel

rounded shoulders
provide comfort
where the teary
come to rest

and when she sings
i see my childhood
i feel the pillow
'neath my head

when she sings
i hear her sacrifice
and feel the wings
of her prayers

when she sings
i swear the melody
gives life
to wintered tulips

mother of mine
your love
it is the beauty
of the golden harp

- p. winter