This poem is about my mom, who is suffering from depression. She's 74 -- and spends many of her days on her front porch, sitting alone. It's truly a shame -- but that's the way she seems to want it now. I pray that she soon takes the offer of help that we as a family have given her.
Mom looked out the window
at the bright sun. From where she sat
on her front porch couch,
the world outside
the kind of cold that
breaks wood and snaps utility wires. Suddenly a bird
she supposed from the tree that towered over the front of the house,
on the outside window sill.
She caught eyes with the little, black thing and asked it,
"Why am I so lonely?"
But the bird
flew away after only a few seconds,
certainly not enough time to