Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The Dreamer

Spring awakens,
happy colors in her palette.
Spring awakens those that dream.
I held her hand,
skipping and jumping.
She held on tight.
I was six years old,
my brown hair caressing my face.
I remember mom's voice,
sweet and kind.
We passed the abandoned lot,
and I discovered the yellow flowers blooming.
My soul was singing,
"mom look at all the yellow flowers"
My face light up,
she smiled to share my joy.
The girl that loved the yellow flowers
grew up to discover that they were weeds.
To me they were flowers,
To me they were salvation,
to me they will always be spring.
To me they will always be a part of mom and me.
How I wished to always hold her near,
how her memory lives this spring,
every spring.


  1. Lovely and sentimental Ayala. Thanks for this poetry.

  2. Thank you, Rudri. I appreciate your comment!

  3. This was so gentle, lovely and sweet.

    I love that your mom never told you they were weeds!

    My kids love these as well.

  4. Galit, the funny thing is that I still get excited when I see them, my heart skips a beat and it takes me back to that time. I love that your kids love them as well :-)

  5. your verse is filled with deep sentiment...and longing of the memories that make up spring...and mothers...very nice.

  6. Thank you, Brian. The longing never goes away....

  7. A wonderful memory, Ayala. What are seen as weeds by others is not always so.

  8. Some call them weeds, I still call them flowers!

  9. We call them flowers! This reminds my of my most favorite flower: wisteria. It's invasive and destructive, but it's gorgeous. This year even my preschooler exclaimed "It's bootiful!"

  10. We talk often with our 4-year old about all the signs of spring. I think it's fun to revel in appreciation of the beauty around us and how everything wakes up and changes so brilliantly this time of year!

  11. Thank you, Mel. To me they will always be flowers :-)

  12. Wisteria's are "bootiful" I agree :-)

  13. I agree, Christine. Spring captures our souls.