An acrostic poem

                 (In memory of my loving and beloved mother, Dorothy M.P.)

My birthday is soon coming round again—so many birthdays have brought me gifts!

Of all the birthday gifts I ever got, the best one was the first:

That gift was life—the golden light—the mystic light that broke long night. dispersed—

Holding  joys and sorrows in long tomorrows, that turned to brief todays, and flew.

Every birthday of mine, I bless the giver of that greatest gift—her love still lifts.

Rifts of time and space that separate my mother from me, really, are small rifts.

-      - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lethe of death has not yet taken my memories of our shared days, and years.

Over all walls, my memories still build bridges of shared laughs and tears—

Very good times and bad.  My mind still touches time I deeply love her for,

Every day I remember my beloved precious mother; and I thank her, too.

=======================

 

Written by Michael LP, aka MLP
aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC, aka Mr. Poet                            
Written on Sunday, January 2, 2011  10:01 am PST
Temperature: 35 degrees F.  Humidity: 38%  Forecast: overcast
Copyright (C) by Michael L.P.  All rights reserved