In the hush of dawn, where the robins sing,
I hear her hum—a quiet, joyful thing.
A thread of song spun from kitchen light,
She made the world feel soft, and right.
She walked with wonder through the trees,
Studied deer tracks, whispered to the breeze.
A cardinal perched, she’d smile and say,
“Nature’s blessing us again today.”
She loved her Richard, hand in hand,
Built a life both strong and grand.
Her children grown, with love she’d sew
New stitches into hearts she’d know.
Grandkids, great-grandkids—each one dear,
She held them close, kept memories near.
And in her bag, so oft unseen,
That little yellow notebook queen
Would jot a thought, a joke, a list—
The smallest details never missed.
She knitted warmth, she stitched delight,
With tiny chairs tucked in just right.
A dollhouse world within her care,
Where love was nestled everywhere.
And oh, the songs! The kitchen tunes—
About lost keys and spoons and moons.
I laugh, remembering the silly flair—
A melody made from thinning hair.
Camping nights with stars above,
We farted loud, then laughed with love.
A bond unique, just hers and mine,
Our secret joy, our shared sunshine.
I miss her voice, her gentle hands,
The way she’d always understand.
But in the birdcall, breeze, and sky,
She’s with me still—and nearby.
So here’s to her, forever seen—
My heart’s own yellow notebook queen.
–Today is my Mom’s birthday. I miss her!
This {_______} life 