I held her hand.
And, kissed her faded, freckled, brow.
This undulating figure…
Had been my mother, somehow.
Beyond caring and back…
What a heavy load!
Beyond the walls of sleep…
A figure, growing tired, getting old.
Ancient birthday cards fall to my bedroom floor.
Could it be?
We both, deserved a little bit more!
Sepia memories, like a spot of grass.
In her listless, cool, hand, rings of emerald and amethyst.
Looking between the lifelines.
A road-map always…soft and delicate.
How strange they beg to fight…now!
Peculiar, someone can be prepared.
B ut not ready for their final bow.
Beyond the walls of sleep.
A reunion left out in the rain.
PostScript and flowers…