Two favorite shirts that you wore,
Hang on the back of our closet door,
After you died I hung them there,
To have the scent of you in the air.
One shirt is plaid, the other tan,
I like to keep them close at hand,
Western style shirts you wore with style,
Now bring a bittersweet smile.
I hold them and wish they were you,
I’d give anything for this to be true,
Inhaling your scent I cry,
Wondering why you had to die.
I talk to you and send hugs and kisses,
To the son this mother sorely misses,
I wish that I could still buy you shirts,
And not have a heart that always hurts.
The buffalo hide boots you loved so much,
Are in our room as well to touch,
Small things of comfort to keep you close,
When I am missing you the most.
Visual reminders of our wonderful boy,
And the years that were filled with so much joy,
I thank God that I was your mother,
And for what we meant to each other.
Hang on the back of our closet door,
After you died I hung them there,
To have the scent of you in the air.
One shirt is plaid, the other tan,
I like to keep them close at hand,
Western style shirts you wore with style,
Now bring a bittersweet smile.
I hold them and wish they were you,
I’d give anything for this to be true,
Inhaling your scent I cry,
Wondering why you had to die.
I talk to you and send hugs and kisses,
To the son this mother sorely misses,
I wish that I could still buy you shirts,
And not have a heart that always hurts.
The buffalo hide boots you loved so much,
Are in our room as well to touch,
Small things of comfort to keep you close,
When I am missing you the most.
Visual reminders of our wonderful boy,
And the years that were filled with so much joy,
I thank God that I was your mother,
And for what we meant to each other.
1 comment:
Oh , I have the same , the outter trappings still carrying the scent of him, my son.... two mothers whose most precious belongings now have become a shirt, a cloth time machine of sorts, that still can bring him back as we close our eyes and drink in a memory of our son..... your poems are so poignant ..... I know unfortunately only to well the cost of the perfumed air that greets us as we hold those object close to our being. Loraine
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