My Mother’s Winter

Mama, I'm sorry
And tired, of messing things up
No white left to wear

I will carry you
So much lighter to my mind
Oil over water

Kerosene on sticks
Your little feathered houses
Branches limb from limb

No bare-foot season
Has ever known so little
Warmth beneath the leaves

Keep coming around
Just to lift me off my feet
Mama, I won't float

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem