For Mothers Day, one of my late Ma’s poems:
Though flowers cannot speak, we know,
And yet they say so much,
I hear a message from each rose
And in the petal’s velvet touch.
I see your smile in buttercups
And listen to your happy words
Ringing in the heatherbells
And in the chatter of the birds.
When springtime comes with violets blue
And daffodils of gold,
I see the twinkle in your eyes
No words there need be told.
The primroses and celandine
And ragged robin, too,
The purple of the hyacinth
All turn my thoughts to you.
When saying it with flowers
Means unspoken words so clear,
In the jingle of the bluebells
‘Tis your laughter that I hear.
When thinking of the good times
While smiling with the flowers
They seem to smile right back at us
And bring delight for hours.
Sylvia Mary Taggart
(7 January 1918 – 13 August 2007)