My mother was a free spirit

She could care less if she had a mustard stain on her shirt

Or her lipstick was a little off

Or that she had no teeth

And spoke like a sailor

My mother died on the brink of spring

When the ground was still cold

And the squirrels still asleep

The cat tracked in damp paw prints, that made her resent him more

My mother was brutality honest

She'd tell you if you stunk or didn't match

She wasn't one to beat around the bush

She told you like it was

My mother wasn't smiling while she "slept" on the weathered tile floor

That still had footprints form weeks before

But she wasn't frowning either.