©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson
Come home to me, my child; come home.
Dance on the words of a mother’s poem…
stepping-stars across the sky,
shining bright to draw you nigh,
spun from gossamer and love,
heart-notes sent to heaven above.
Tiptoe through the rooms that knew you
while I whisper secrets to you.
Brush my soul with velvet fingers…
breathe a sweet goodbye that lingers…
then return, like fallen rain,
to the place from whence you came.
Angel voices call your name.