UNTIL EACH TEAR BECOMES A ROSE:
Yesterday I did some spring cleaning,
Not of my apartment but my soul.
Wondering why on my birthday,
I had no cards or phone calls.
Despite it being my grand daughter's birthday,
No "Happy Birthday Nan".
It was then I did some soul searching
So I sat down and began.
I knew John in Spain would call later,
But the other two still silent.
I can't recall upsetting them.
So why won't they relent?
I thought perhaps my body language,
Sent unwanted messages over the years.
I've done all I could for them,
So why on my birthday was I in tears.
I thought way back over the years,
I've never taken their names in vain.
I love both my daughter and son equally
So why all this heartache and pain.?
I've come to the conclusion,
That it's their decision not mine.
One can't make someone talk,
Perhaps they will in time.
Until my prodigal daughter, son and grandchildren
In the fold safely again....I suppose.
I will remain ever hopeful,
Till each tear become a rose.
Copyright Yvonne Lewis 11/05/2015: