There is something about death
That plays over in your head
Flashes when you close your eyes
All I remeber about that day was the end
What they don't tell you about the life leaving your mother is that where there were once soft hands, crafting yarns and fabrics into new things
There are now rigid plains
 and blue rushes in like a storm to take over her once pink lips.
What they don't tell you is there is no struggle, no grand finale,
 the light had left long ago
But in your mind you will play over and over again, what it would have been like for her to open her eyes and take a breath
           and
To hear her say hello one last time