by Donna Lee Rivers
I find myself thinking of Mother's Day. My birthday. Little children without a mother. A child with no home. Planting flowers. Seeing a pretty bird. Spring in the air. Birds nesting. A butterfly. Driving a car, singing. A good yard sale. A house for sale. A seashell. The ocean. The desert. The sun shining in the rain. A rainbow. The stars. Wishing upon a star. Looking at Mars. A smile from a child. A tear drop. Banana pudding. Peanut butter-banana sandwich. Elvis singing Blue Suede Shoes. Taking a trip. Driving a VW van. Hippies. Woodstock. Otis sittin' on the dock of the bay. Lookout Mountain. My sisters. Where did everyone go? Time. Time in a bottle. A good book. Bubble bath. The bathroom alone, talking with you. I close my eyes.