Mom by Sharon Adkins
Mom, you seem to be leaving a little more every day.
Conversations are vague, memory is fading.
Please stay a little longer.
Hankies left in your apron pockets..and in the chair cushions.
Ten different kinds of Christmas cookies…
The New Betty Crocker Cookbook.
Peas hidden under my plate and in my pockets.
The Mother and Daughter Banquet.
Rick-rack trim on the aprons you made.
Boiled potatoes…ALL the time.
Flour sack dish towels and crocheted dish rags.
The ladies of the church kitchen.
Thanksgiving turkey leftovers stored in the attic.
Church pot luck dinners and lime Jello.
Cream of mushroom soup…for everything!
Oleo margarine in a bag.
Hankies from your apron pocket…to wipe away my tears.
Mom, I love you.<