Before

When I was young and learned of death

I worried mom would leave

So in the yard beneath some junk

A board I did retrieve.

Then on the board I painted in

Two laughing eyes of blue

A wise wide smile, a tiny nose

Just like the mom I knew.

And when big sister went to school

The board I took with me

And planted it where ever I played

So mom would always be.

Now years have passed

I can’t pretend midst Alzheimer’s disease

When from her rocking chair mom says,

‘There’s a soul—,”a soul that I can’t see.

But I can’t help but wonder

When grandma comes to mom

And mom describes her like before

Before when I was young.

Oh how I long to tarry

Within my childhood space

Find comfort in a piece of wood

And peace in childhood faith.

©--Christina Cowling