Mama’s Eyes

I saw her come in and sit across the way.

She was young and pretty and special this day.

Her hair was black and dark as the night skies.

Yet what drew my attention were her beautiful blue eyes.

She looked to me how my dearly departed mother used to look.

And I knew from the moment I saw her I was on memories fatal hook.

I can’t explain all of these emotions and feelings of late.

You know… these soft glimpses of the past lain on memories plate.

I don’t know her nor does she know me…

Yet every time I look at her it is Mama I see.

Blessed or cursed by this I swear, I know not.

But glimpses such as these leave me with the lingering –

Of yesterday’s eve knowing that a mother’s love is never forgot.

J. Allen Wilson © 4/5/2011