My mother sang— a melancholy sound— tears in a narrow dark green bottle Emotions filling up that the cork of self-control would always throttle Songs of longing of rose-covered gardens of disappointed love of unmerited pardons Songs of twilight falling and of clear skies that clouds too soon would mottle A melancholy sound when Mother sang— tears in a narrow dark green bottle.
—published in The Oregonian, date unknown


So poignant. Thank you for sharing this, Jennifer.