When i was young,
I would’ve have given my mother the world.
Every mothers day, i would paint
My very best picture,
And I would walk to my grandmother's garden
To pick the tallest Easter lilies
That had bloomed weeks before.
Her front yard boasted
the most beautiful flowers
That fill my memories.
But like the colorful bloom,
My mothers love disappeared with time.
And sloppy paintings and roughly cut stems
Would never be good enough for her.