ACCEPTANCE

I won’t paint you with white hair

Or picture you as grown old,

My mind won’t let that vision there,

Or let such thoughts of you take hold.

When morning comes and you awake,

My eyes will close so I don’t see,

That you have aged or feel the ache,

Of knowing death will come for thee.

So, mother, turn yourself from me,

Until I wipe, from me, this tear,

Please don’t allow my heart to see,

That soon you will depart from here.

Again, I’ll paint your hair a brown

And in my mind roll back the years,

Gently brush away your frown

Embedded from a life of tears.

I’ll close my eyes and picture you,

As you looked back in my youth;

That is the memory I will view…

So, I won’t have to face the truth.