My Mother is Violet

My Mother is Violet
It's cool breezes and the warming sun
with windows open,
inviting.
Trees of soap blossom, for short limbs to climb.
Lilac and Rose of Sharon, beauty in shades of pale pinks.
The clothes hung out to dry, swinging and swaying
bright whites against radiant blue backdrop of skies
that extend
forever.
The days seem to extend forever.
Taste of stinging lemonade on my tongue,
my mother in the kitchen preparing lunch
at the table we sit together with a centerpiece of lilacs.
My mother will always be violet.



Stay Free
-Carrie