Seventh-Inning Stretch
My mother was a Yankees fan,
had a jersey and everything;
she wore it with Keds and little
socks that didn’t match at all.
I don’t know anything about
this game, only that it made her
happy to root for someone.
In my mind, I can see the logo:
the bat, the hat, stars and stripes.
I can see her, too, if I really try, but
the image gets hazier with each
new year. I swore it never would.
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
This is really vivid. I feel like I can see what you are describing and through that feel the sorrow of loss of your mother in the poem.
Thank you so much! When she first died (in August 2009), I wrote about her illness and death a lot, and very directly. Then I stopped writing about it so much, and now I do every so often, but most of the time, it’s through a little side door like this one. Would give anything to see her — funny socks and all — again.
The image of her fading in your poem – you capture her in your writing… capture her and enliven her memory where even a stranger can see her. Write on.