The sun had risen to the sky
Shining light upon the thriving field
And petals fell like elegant feathers from the sky.
As gracefull as an angel,
Mother had finally arrived.
"Is this goodbye?" I ask, unsure.
Slowly, she raised her hand
And touched my cheek so softly
Almost as if she thought I would break.
"Like a blue bell," she spoke softly
"You will always remember me."
But how will I remember her?
How will I remember her kindness, strength, and courage?
I watch as she slowly glides through the fields
And picks a fully bloomed iris.
"Through this," she says, words full of wisdom.
My brows furrow in confusion
"An iris?" I ask softly.
"The meaning of this flower,
Is the joy of a believer
Abd this is who I know you are."
Yes, that is correct.
She is correct.
I am a believer.
This poem is about:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: