Remember the gravel road?

Our house seemed bigger then.

I suppose it really wasn’t,

I suppose I was just small.

Remember mother then,

her turquoise pullover,

her watchful eye

so far away, so close.

Remember all those bits of life,

her youth seemed old to me,

she seemed so permanent.

Yet she was so fragile

and unfairly stolen.

There is no life without water or mothers