travelers in colored carts
head to roads of no return
a fortune teller speaks of love
milk and honey wait for me
mama’s young
the lilac is in bloom
the hands of the rose garden wave to me
i turn the key of the blue room…
Since my mother left this world, I’ve carried her picture in my purse every day. During the Easter Mass her picture felt out of my purse. When I picked it up I noticed, for the first time, the inscription on the back:
a tear on the tomb of a dream
Stella
August 15
Mama was only 18 years old when this picture was taken.
