by Trenna Sue Hiler

Created on: November 13, 2008   Last Updated: December 06, 2008

Frail, tired, weak, so small

Parkinson's has stolen it all

She seems more peaceful when she finds sleep

The tremors slow and I don't hear her weep

Where is the Mom who held me so tight?

She was the one who could make things right

Her great-grandchild is due and should be here soon

Will they pass in the night by the light of the moon?

Is that how we make the circle complete?

As they pass to new realms and they quietly meet.

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