A Mother's Day Sentiment

The daffodils were late that year.  She ran out while supper was cooking and picked a few of the fashionably late blooms. Tucked into the pitcher there on the tray they seemed a cheerful sentiment.

Every year daffodil bouquets blaze the trail for the many she gathers....
                                                

Much like a mother in affection of her first born, she never wishes any away... Each bloom and bouquet precious, like  a child's life; changing, fleeting and pressed immeasurably against those creases in her heart.

A Beautiful and Blessed Mother's Day to You...a rather short post this year, but click on the following links to read previous ponderings..


http://lucy-martin.blogspot.ca/2015/05/becoming.html

http://lucy-martin.blogspot.ca/2013/11/a-mothers-prayer.html

http://lucy-martin.blogspot.ca/2013/05/the-waving-mother.html


All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his. ~Oscar Wilde~