You held me, in the palm of your hands,

When I was young, red-faced and new.

You held my hand, as up I grew,

Then held me in your heart.

From you I learned a love of words,

Of all things wild and all things free.

To nurture all the gifts we have,

Upon this earth called home.

Four score and more your heart once beat,

As life was lived and loved and lost.

So small and dark, and fair and stark,

Daughter, wife and mother.

No matter angst, or bitterness,

Forgiveness is a family trait.

I loved you all the days we had.

And cared as roles reversed.

I hold you, in the palm of my hands,

Your substance, strength, reduced to ash,

No wicked wit, no wise words left,

Now you are here no more.

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