Mother’s Day, I Miss Mine

Mother’s Day, I Miss Mine

The world is dressed in flowers,

wrapped in ribbons, scented sweet,

soft voices whisper gratitude,

but mine stays incomplete.

The cards are lined in silver script,

love inked in every line,

but no address, no place to send.

Mother’s Day, I miss mine.

The echoes of her laughter

haunt the corners of my mind,

a melody both warm and cruel,

a song that won’t rewind.

I hold her name within my chest,

a weight both soft and strong,

each memory a candle lit

to burn the whole day long.

They celebrate with open arms,

while I just close my eyes and cry.

Mother’s Day is not the same

when yours lives in the skies.