Lost Love
My mom was the prettiest mom.
I look for her, she can't be found.
No more cookies and milk after school,
nor smile when asked how was your day.
Instead I hear this is your stepmom Denise.
I was five.
Dads in jail.
I cry myself to sleep.
I'm six.
Copyright © Sharon Riggio | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment