my mother was a blade of grass
swaying in the shade of a willow tree
I would sit beside her and talk
of things she would want to know
She would bend her head and
graze my hand
Winter came and she grew brittle
An icy wind broke her and
she went away forever
When I returned in spring
and found that she was gone
I sat in the shade of the willow tree
and cried

(photo courtesy of www.trekearth.com )