Postscript and Flowers

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.

Forever worn…

Forever brown.

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 caring.

Beyond the walls of sleep.

A reunion left out in the rain.

PostScript and flowers…

all that remains.