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Our Precious Lady, Margaret
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By N/A
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Mom has a beautiful face
she’s kept her figure too,
dances with professional grace
the sight of her
the warmth of her spirit
can break mens’ hearts
even though she’s 82

but when I think of her
as a symbol in my life
I somehow see ...
pastels
petals, mixed pansies,
bold poppies
purple lobelia on a white trellis
against the grey stucco of home

...the glow in her eyes for dad
throughout
their forty-five years of marriage
... his obvious jealous passion
... the unyielding need for her at his side
as the end drew near

when I think of her
it’s all about
art, story, floral scenes
walks through gardens
paint
oh yes, and
the year dad went to Europe for six weeks
so she in some sudden burst of expression
painted the white kitchen, cupboards and all
in her favorite shade of
blueberry!

Later she turned to
oils, on canvas
astounding us with
her quick command

of a more personal brush
she’s always been the sound of
womanhood outspoken
but with delicacy
proud of the features and curves
touches and delights
of femininity

not shy to speak up first
in crowds
a brave traveler across the world

I remember when she and I hit “Frisco”
as she loves to call it
she had fun
running the Fairmont Hotel
see-through elevator,
admiring the heights
along the ascent

later, showed me Vegas!
and the nightclubs
after we found the right side
of Reno to catch the bus on!

The night someone pounded threateningly
against our motel room door
so we pushed a chair against it
called the management
and waited it out
fear never seemed to surface in her

in my mom we and our young ones
have all seen
that it never occurs to her
that care of your skin, your posture, yourself
despite aging’s restrictions and losses
and the passion for life, music, and art
ever have to quit
nor devotion to the love of her life,
dad, still with her every day in her heart.
for my mom, life is still a romance
one we love to watch her in


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Submitted: Wednesday, July 10, 2002

Last Updated: Wednesday, July 10, 2002

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