The house is empty now
and no one tends
the flowers, growing still,
along the walk where once
I strolled with Mama.
My hand in hers, she walked
with me and talked about
the blue hydrangeas,
phlox of pink,
daylilies red, and
golden daffodils
dazzling at their peak
of color in the sun.
I walk along the
silent footpath now,
where only shadows move.
I miss Mama.
cCopyright, 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols
Freeda Baker Nichols 
Thank you, Dorothy.
LikeLike
I’m enjoying your poetry!
LikeLike
Thank you, Glynda.
LikeLike
Oh Freeda, this is lovely. Thanks for causing me to spend a little time in memory lane. Glynda
LikeLike
Oh Freeda, this is lovely. Both my grandmothers grew beautiful flowers. My mother didn’t do flowers but she made works of art with her needle. Clothes, curtains, quilts and even covered furniture. Thanks for causing me to spend a little time in memory lane. Glynda
LikeLike
Thanks. I only knew one of my grandmothers. I don’t know if she grew flowers. I think she could do needlework, and my mother could embroider beautiful tablecloths and pillowcases and she could do tatting. Spending time in memory lane can be fun, don’t you think?
LikeLike
My mother passed last fall so I definitely relate to this.
LikeLike
My mother was the subject of my very first poem, written when I was about nine years old. She passed a long time ago, and I still miss her.
LikeLike
This is sooo beautiful, Freda. Makes me miss my mama too.
LikeLike
Thank you, Suzanne. We were blessed with our mamas.
LikeLike
How touching! Made me cry! Reminded me so much of my sweet Grandmother Graham who is in heaven now and my mom who is thankfully still here! So well written!
LikeLike
Thank you for your comment. I appreciate it.
LikeLike
Thanks for sharing!
LikeLike
My pleasure. Good to hear from you.
LikeLike