The hair cascades and through folds of grey
Strands you can see through the years
To a young girl and her mother
Brushing her hair and letting it fall
In folds deep and thick
As she closes her eyes to enjoy the touch
And feel of memory, years past
Which haunts her
So appropriately witnessed near
Mother's Day the image is for
A moment and fades
As the room focuses back to today
And the woman brushes again
Telling her it is thicker than
The last time grown with the memory
Of time what a gift a moment
Can be and what a picture
Of the stages which bind us
One to another in the
Memory of the soul