Easter hymns
rise sweet and melodious
from our lips
white majestic lilies
sound their fragrant trumpets
kindling childhood memories
of new spring clothes,
shiny black patent leather shoes
lacy pink bonnets and my Mother
holding our hands as we skip
off to Sunday school
tears frozen in time
warm streams run freely
towards her familiar lap
and soft *****
on this day so dear to her
Soul
I gaze wistfully across
unknown boundaries
and wave to my Mom
strolling through Paradise
hand in hand
with Jesus, Our Lord