Balcony

       The Balcony – Laura Botsford

In this frosted dust, the sad, sacred feeling of her missing touch

Whose letters scripted by times quill have not forgotten

Her gentle hand that so loving smoothed my childhood hair when I was troubled and moody

Whose wise words and caring concern brought light into my tribulations so that I could stand  on my own and regain my footing

In all ways my mother made me what am.

Her beauty surrounds me still

For her spirit is ever lasting

Though I keep the memories in a box beside my bed

I will always remember every day the words she speaks in wind

“I am not gone, just away and someday we will meet again.

For this sorrow is a short separation in the expanse of infinity.

My hand forever will be upon your head; my love is ever with thee, and in the times   when you think you are alone.

Look around and listen, for I am speaking there from the everlasting bond that we so dearly share.

Calling softly your name from my balcony, still smoothing out  all  your restless, troubling cares.”