After
After the clock struck,
the sound of the bed creaking
carried through the hard, wooden floors
of Miss Machem's old boarding house.
I took just a second to glance in the mirror,
surprising myself,
seeing my mother staring back at me,
hoping that life would be different,
realizing that life was the same,
no matter,
before, during, or after,
love remains a constant.
Copyright © Maureen Judge | Year Posted 2011
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