White Flowers

the white flowers
flutter gently
as they sway in the breeze
and the vioces
run and mumble
as they whisper to me
oh i hear you
yes i hear you
come alive once again
come through the trees
yes stay near me
and ascend to heaven
i prayed for you
i stayed with you
and i love you so, dear
i could feel you
i could sense you
as you watched me, so near
mama sweetheart
you’re in my heart
thank you so for your love
yes i now know
when the breeze blows
its a sign from above

I’ve never been one to believe in the afterlife. But I met a woman at the library once (she was quite the character) who told me her mother had died a few weeks earlier and that a few days after she saw white flowers falling from a tree at the college. She said they had been her mother’s favorite flowers and that at that moment she could feel her mother’s love again. I went home and wrote this poem in a minute or two, realizing that whether God or spirits exist, experiences like that, even if they’re only in your mind, are priceless.

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