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The
Touch
Of
Mama's
Hand
I
always
remember
Mama
this
special
time
of
year,
and
though
I
can't
explain
it,
it
seems
as
if
she's
here.
Her
spirit
seems
to
hover
as
busily
I
bake,
and
I
feel
my
heart
is
swelling
like
the
rising
of
the
cake.
Although
she
had
no
money
to
buy
me
fancy
toys,
she
more
than
compensated
by
sharing
Christmas
joys.
The
treasures
that
she
gave
me
weren't
purchased
in
a
store,
for
she
gave
them
with
a
spirit
that
lives
on
forevermore.
Oh,
how
I'd
love
to
see
her
to
tell
her
thanks
so
much.
Perhaps
she
knows
already
--
did
I
just
feel
her
touch?
Copyright
©
1998
Ruth
Gillis
Previously
published
in
Poets
at
Work
November
1999
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