Harriet B. Kahn




My Mom

The earrings lay unattached
And the scarves now wrap around the air
But memory
The perfume of longing
Carries her smile everywhere

She was our compass
And our star
And when we fell short
As we could

No wavering ever
From such a wholesome heart
Love never had it so good

The sun doesn’t rise
When the night claims its prize
But it should.