Mother died today. And I am no Camus.
She danced along her way, begun in twenty-two.
A raving farm girl beauty, with rabbits in her yard,
and pledged to family duty, life later became hard.
A mother to her brother, who’d always be a child,
she jumped too soon at marriage, and that’s when things got wild.
She lived a whirlwind fantasy in fifties social scenes.
Her husband grew in power. They had fun and they had means.
But marriage cracked by loving lacked and someone had to fall.
She wound up in an institution, slave to alcohol.
Faith and pure determination put her back on track.
Father found her with the next door neighbor, in the sack.
Post divorce, she moved from city to a trailer park.
There she grew back into life, escaping from the dark.
She went back to school, acted in plays and modeled, too.
She took photographs which now expressed her lightened view.
She went back to church, went back to work and really flourished.
Old age gradually snuck in, but with her spirit nourished,
she remained a dignified and always loving presence.
Now she’s with the flowers, which have always been her essence.