Mother


In her bosom where memory beats
Threatening the precious wisdom therein.
Fading out the ancient echoes.
Why can't she just remember?

Threatening the precious wisdom there in
Time plots and teases her senses.
Why can't she just remember
the word, the phrase, the color, my name?

Time plots and teases her senses.
She stares lasers and snatches glimpses of
the word, the phrase, the color, my name.
Away, then back but more and more away.

She stares lasers and snatches glimmers of
The fading out of ancient echoes.
And I stay, and hope for time to be kind
for in her bosom her memory beats.

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