As I recall first taste of lemonade
from tall, cold glass Mom served from patio
when I swung high in cool and leafy shade
of tree where she once played long years ago,
I smile. I’m thankful for her gentle care.
The years were rolling silver dollars spent.
My mom and I both lived so unaware,
it seemed, that change could come without a hint–
one day it happened instantly in time.
How strange! I did not notice right at first–
when hands of kindness ceased their pantomime,
and shook until my world collapsed, then burst.
When bands of angels flew from Heaven’s shade,
they took the one who poured sweet lemonade.
c Copyright, 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols