Your Mother
The tilt of her head,
The half crooked smile,
That mischievous glint, in her eyes,
Her sometimes depraved sense of humor,
These things, she gave to you.
You can play dress-up with her clothes,
Clothes that may still have the scent of Jovan Musk,
Wear the baubles she treasured, as if they were real,
Get misty over old photos, that retain her youth,
Well I guess it's time to get back to your life and me mine,
They say life must go on, and the good sometimes die,
They say life must go on, but I forget just why.
-Margi C.
Copyrighted1998