I returned to the home place,
Dreading to step just inside,
It has been a long time now,
Since my precious Mama died.
I remember her sitting by the window,
Bible lay open on her lap.
She was traveling to see her sweet Jesus,
The Bible served as her road map.
I look around almost expecting,
To see her face with a smile,
Yet I know it cannot be again,
She has traveled her last mile.
Slowly I go from room to room,
Each filled with memories returned,
As I enter Mama's bedroom,
Tears fell as her presence I yearned.
Next to the bed on a table,
Just as when she put it there,
Lay her treasured Bible still open,
With a pink rose she placed with care.
I picked the rose for her the day she died,
Pink roses were her favorite flower,
She said they held the fragrance of Jesus,
And she could feel His awesome power.
I dry my still falling tears,
Oh Lord, I miss Mama so much,
I lift her open Bible,
The dried rose crumbles at my touch.
I will treasure Mama's Bible,
As a remembrance on display,
A reminder of her deep faith,
I will replace the rose each day.
When the fragrance fills the room,
Thoughts of my dear Mama will e'er be there,
She taught me to look to God,
With her memory His fragrance I'll share.
25 March 2007