The chandelier hanging above the blue canvass of de Vinci with its illumination of violescent splendor - which is capturing the master's brush of poignancy in his genius - pales in comparison to the liquid pools of benevolence ensconced in my mother's eyes.
Today her hands seem smaller than yesterday when she cradled me with a lullaby that could have been played on the quintessential Amati violin. Her amazing love permeated and saturated my soul with the most exquisite fragrance of grace, humility and the unique ability to open my heart and be accepting of life's mysterious journeys.
This aging beauty queen is still impeccably lovely, highly admired and an eternal sacrosanct spirit created by the master to be my mother. She is God's love song to me.