I think of mom when springtime's near,
a season that she held so dear.
All her life, she loved spring flowers,
her potted plants, she'd tend for hours.
There was a field where lilacs grew,
she'd take me there because she knew
they smelled so sweet in their first bloom,
picked some to brighten up her room.
There by her side, we'd walk for miles,
the birds above would bring us smiles.
The sun framed by bright skies of blue,
so glad to be there, just us two.
We'd walk and talk, have lots to say,
happy in how we spent our day.
We'd share some quiet times as well,
Springs magic had us in it's spell.
Yard sales would start, we'd always go,
what we would find, we could not know.
A perfect something there might be,
Just waiting there for mom and me.
Mom comes back to me every spring,
when flowers bud and Robin's sing.
Sometimes these thoughts can make me sad,
while at the same time, make me glad.
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