Judith A. Rettig

Your first Easter with the Lord

If roses grow in Heaven,

Lord please pick a bunch for me,

Place them in my Mother’s arms and tell her they’re from me.

Tell her I love her and miss her,

And when she turns to smile,

Place a kiss upon her cheek and hold her for awhile.

Because remembering her is easy,

I do it every day,

But there’s an ache within my heart that will never go away.