Mother Of Everyone

I heard the news she died today, M.O.E., mother of everyone.
I heard the love she’d earned, in the voice that told me her battle’s done.

I had no clue, nor anyone else, that she was waning to sleep.
I heard the hoarseness in the messenger’s voice; trying not to weep.

She sowed gardens, literal & figurative, in hearts & soil.
Thinking of her tender plots going fallow, brings me near to boil.

But she was still kind in facing the worst circumstances of all.
How can I be distraught she’s gone? She’d never heed to anger’s call.

So, I’ll remember the hours we spoke of our gardening touch.
I know I’m lucky I knew her at all; to  memories I’ll clutch.

Dedicated to Moe