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by louis gander
9/07/2014 / Womens Interest
So many things just disappeared
forever with my mother.
Mom's apple butter's almost gone
and there won't be another.
But I can taste it. Sure, I can!
It's not like any other.
Except for grandma, no one made it
just as good as mother.
But now a silence fills her room.
Oh, how can I rejoice -
with not a hymn to listen to
nor her familiar voice?
All gone, her clothes and furniture.
No fragrance greets my nose.
No flower pots or nature's bloom.
At last, her door I close.
I close it on so many things
I'll never again see.
And apple butter, now all gone,
is just a memory...
So I sit back and close my eyes
here in my fav'rite chair -
where I can see her making more,
more apple butter there...
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