The gray days of winter crash and foam, one much like another. Memories sprout like tender green buds under a warm yellow sun. You thrived in spring, with your hands in the dirt, coaxing forth a rainbow of blossoms.
These empty blue rooms
Echo my silent crying:
I miss you, Mommy…
Haibun idyll written for Tanka Tuesday.
Image from Unsplash.
Happy birthday, Mommy. Love you always.
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