Saturday 24th January 

The grey expanse 
Begins to sigh 
A steady rhythm 
Meets the sky 
With whispers soft 
The winds do blow
Spreading tales  
Of love and woe 

The trees bend down 
As if to hear 
The echoes of 
Forgotten cheer 
Their branches sway 
With gentle grace 
While shadows dance 
In dusk's embrace 

Love you so much 
Precious sons 
Beloved Mum 
xxxxx