There Should Be Windows

There Should Be Windows


If Heaven is that mansion of many rooms
then there would be windows.
I can see my mother keeping them sparkling clean
and opening them wide to hear
the angels or, perhaps, the birds singing.
I like to think my mom can lean out
and look down and see how much she is missed.

I imagine my mother watering ivy or geraniums
(that spill from window boxes)
with dreams and prayers and wishes.
Mom truly looked forward to receiving letters in the mail--
mansions have addresses
and there should be a zip code for heaven.
Or email: [e-mail].

There should be windows
because Mothers always worry and at least
she could peek down every so often and know
we are fine or muddling along or getting by
even though I know she knows that:
She taught us well. Still, it helps
to imagine.

I've smelled her perfume at odd moments
when there's been no one else around
lest the skeptics scoff. I could swear
I've felt that 'Mom-glare' on occasion
or hear her say my name. If there be
windows, Mom, know I'm looking beyond
and seeing you once again--if only in my heart.

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