Unfinished Pieces

This is a poem to my mother who died too soon
and left too many unfinished pieces
in her life and mine.
Guided by passion, driven by obsession,
you touched upon perfection with your music
and quit.
I don't know why.
Your passions exploded in hot temper,
quick and violent, impatient with me
and others who did not seek perfection.
Driving and driven ... guide and obstruction.
Sentimental, forceful, intelligent,
supporting and shattering fragile dreams.
Fierce lioness protecting her pride,
frightening predator devouring confidence.
But you were always there,
sometimes more than I wanted,
other times as my refuge.
But now you're gone,...
and I'll never know why you quit.