A Memorial
Disorderly,
His confusion organized,
Grotesquely haphazard.
She never stopped complaining,
Harping him to distraction.
Even now, he had to search
For a miserable hammer.
Cellar dark,
Hands outstretched,
Light switch elusive,
He hit his head,
Against a beam.
Till he found
That for which he needed.
He hung her portrait
Smack in the middle
Of a bare wall,
Above her beloved dresser,
An antique piece which he abhorred.
He bought a lamp
And vowed it would be lit
Below the face
That looked at him
From high above,
Imploring urgently,
Almost begging him
To do better.
He took up the hammer again
He fixed the small bronze plaque
As level as he only knew how
And read the words there written:
"My beloved Mother".
He smiled.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
