When her mother died last year
She felt as if a part of her died too.
Then--as if Love knew how she felt
Out of the wisps of clouds that hung over her head
Came what appeared to be fingerprints
Feathery styled streaks of clouds angeled toward
The treetops.
Delicately, yet boldly, they made their statement
As they caressed the branches that at one time
Held leaves,
And now laid unprotected to whatever happened.
The clouded fingerprints began to thread in
And around the branches,
Almost as if to comfort and protect them.
It was then at that moment that she too,
Felt comforted and protected from whatever
Would happen by.
Love had created everything and even though
Mom was back with them--she wouldn't be forgotten.