(5-28-42 / Washington state USA)

Goodnight Irene

My mother’s name was Irene
And I miss her every day
She loved the precious flowers
And new mown grass and hay

For my folks lived on a farm
Oh, it wasn’t very large
They had a cow called Blossom
The cow was truly in charge

She followed dad all over
An old red cow she was
Wasn’t really good for much
Didn’t have a purpose or cause

Mom tended her flowers carefully
Bouquets would fill the rooms
She’d wait patiently each spring
For those lovely brilliant blooms

Yes, she’s gone now to meet dad
Something is missing still it seems
I’ll bet each night he still says
“I love you, Goodnight Irene! ”

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Comments (1)

A tender loving write Marilyn! A delight to read this poem to your Mom, thank you. Best wishes! Friend Thad