In the quiet of a dim-lit room,

A dancer with shadows and roses in bloom,

A vision of my beautiful mother,

More joyful than any other.

 

Her face, a beacon of warmth and grace,

A smile that lit up every somber space.

Her tender blissful sunshine

A love unconditional, ever mine

 

Her presence a warm and soothing song 

An air that's gone but lingers on. 

Kindness was her brush of art

Painting friendships with her heart.

 

Her laughter a melody, sweet and pure,

A song in my heart that will ever endure,

Each passing day of life,

With joy and love, and never strife.

 

Her pen a magic wand, words her art,

Crafting stories from her loving heart,

In every verse she ever lined.

Her zest for life brilliantly shined.

 

She wove the material of my dreams,

And the joy in her smile still brightly gleams.

Through her eyes, I knew the world's grace,

Through her love, I knew sweet embrace.

 

A call emanated from above, from on high

A summons from Heaven, whispers from the sky

With tearful eyes and heavy hearts, we wept,

As peaceful in eternal slumber she slept.

 

But amid sorrow, there's a glimmer of light,

A promise of reunions beyond this dark night,

Jesus waiting, arms open wide,

To welcome her to the other side.

 

She set out traveling, to a celestial place,

To be with Jesus and kiss Dad's face.

To heaven's garden, there to abide,

Where sorrow's sting is cast aside.

 

In heaven's realm, there's no pain or sorrow,

No tears to be shed or uncertain tomorrows,

She walks with angels on streets of pure gold,

In a world where love's story is forever told.

 

Cherish the stories, the love, and the art,

Left inside this mourning heart

For in dreams, will she always breathe,

Beautiful, loving memory.

 

Every flower's bloom, every bird's sweet refrain 

Claim her spirit and speak her name

Every gaze upward at night's gentle sweep,

Find solace knowing she’s just asleep.

 

Let us not mourn, but honor her life,

Faithful servant, mother, friend, and wife.

Let us laugh and sing and celebrate her time.

For her, the angels sing, for her, the bells chime.

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©2023  William A. Smith