Midnight Hymn

Momma's well-worn cotton gown
Flows freely in the breeze
As she sways forth and fro
on her childhood swing

Her locks of brown frame her face
As she quietly mourns the loss
Of her Family's grace

Being back home though bitter sweet
Brings pure restfulness
and complete ease

The memories bring smiles, laughter, and tears
as she hears the sweet sound of momma
ringing in her ears

Head tilted high to the midnight moon
While the crickets and cicadas
sing their nightly tune

Though momma will be missed
They will meet here each night
And sing and dance togther
Across the surface of the moon