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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