Security (a memory of my mother) ~

Sometimes, such grace will touch a simple thing,
A gesture, or a word, that it will hold
A meaning far beyond the thing itself.
At evening, when the air was growing cold
I used to watch her gather in her shawl
In folds about her shoulder, in a way
That gave me such delicate joy, hard to define.
It seemed to have some goodness to convey.
For in her was a pool of gentle quietness
A sure repose, untouched by any storm.
I watched her as she gathered in her shawl
And felt enfolded too, in her love, so safe and warm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I miss you mama ~
the radiance of your pure and shining spirit
still illuminates my path
and guides all of my days ~

40 thoughts on “Security (a memory of my mother) ~”

    1. How do I respond to such a lovely comment from you, Kim?
      You really are too kind and I am forever grateful for your kind words on my poetry!
      Thank you so much! ❀

      Liked by 1 person

  1. What a beautiful way to describe your mother and your love for her, Margie.
    Your poems are always so delicate and touching. The way in which you can catch people and emotions in words and phrases is exceptional.
    ❀️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Your kind words mean so much to me, Mirjam.
      It was from my mama that I learned how to write poetry.
      She would be touched by your comment as I am.
      Thank you so much! ❀

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Our mother never cease being our mother. Like you, I still feel enveloped by my mother’s love and guidance. I don’t mean that in just a sentimental way. It’s more real than that.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Howdy Margie!
    It’s odd how we never quit grieving. I miss my mother in ways I never expected. She pops up at the oddest times and the grief bubbles up through the white noise of the day taking me by surprise. Thank you for helping me touch it once again.
    Huzzah!
    Jack

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Margie I can feel the sadness but also the beauty of your thoughts of your mother. πŸ’™πŸ’™πŸ’™. Your poems are the definition of sensitivity. I feel like I want to wrap your writing up in cotton wool, then write FRAGILE on the side of the box, because it is so soft. πŸ˜‰πŸ€—

    Liked by 1 person

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