Friday, May 13, 2016

A Late Mother's Day Poem

Last Memory

She smiled, I think
The last day I saw her
Her babbling voice
Her witty retorts
Her laughter at her grandsons
They were gone
No more to be heard
And no one knew how to comb her hair
Or that she would be aghast to be seen
Without lipstick, blush, or shadow.
And no one knew red was her favorite color
Dressing her in dull pastels
She would have scorned.
And no one thought she knew anyone
But I think she smiled
The last time I saw her
The last time she saw me
I think she smiled.