A gift returned

For no real reason other than perhaps boredom, this afternoon I decided to go through some old file folders. I found one that was unlabeled, and discovered it contained poetry I wrote back when I was in my twenties. Right in front was this little handmade booklet that, according to the inscription, I gave to my mother as a late birthday present in 1977. I'd completely forgotten about it, and the poems, too, until I read them, then all at once they became familiar again, like meeting an old friend.



What makes this extra special is that Mother died 32 years ago today.

A gift returned in remembrance of something precious that I'd lost.

Gratias tibi, Mater, et requiescant in pace eternam. Amen.