You came to me, in confidence,
calling my name, half-teasingly,
but you never said anything more.
You wanted me to hear you,
to know you were there,
but not to interfere.
I feel your kisses
and soft stoking on my forehead
under moonbeams
and I am no longer afraid.
The other day,
I found myself at the end of a rainbow
and I had to smile
because you always had your way of being right
and you always said the treasure would not consist of gold,
and the treasure was the rainbow.
(To my mother, who still manages to teach me lessons, long after her departure.)