The Metaphors of Life

As a withered flower, pressed
between the pages of her favorite book,
I picked it up, saw her petals;
and thought, ‘Hey mom, look!
No finer flower did I ever know.
Her beauty, luster now gone,
but oh, one time! One time!
If only I lived then,
watched her rise in the early morn.
How blessed was that day,
the sun smiled…
shed its rays…
while the dew settled softly
to moisturize her face.
Yes, she was the loveliest of all, my mom.
Now here I see her between these pages, pressed.
Oh mother, thank you.
Thank you for teaching me to read…
not only the words
but the metaphors of life.