My mother died 8 years ago. Her birthday was yesterday, the traditional first day of spring.
Are you here?
Are you the flowers on the table,
Or the purple umbrella I bought
Without realising it’s the same as the one you always used to carry?
Or are you the spring rain falling outside,
Or the gathering green rising out of the earth?
Or are you a thought or a memory?
A feeling in the heart?
A special sensation never lost, you’re always there, dear mum, ever present.
It’s lovely to have you around.