Awakening: Mrs Pat's Kitchen
Arise little boy, to a home,
Soaked in love, and bathed in
traditions of yesteryear, with
a tenderness that slowly slips
to the verge of extinction,
Modern times make the model
family a modern art form that lacks
understanding, yet what do we deprived,
know of these scenes of endearment?
Or the eccentric moments that should be
cherished, remembered, and conventional,
A mother playfully squeezes her son's cheek,
as he returns the affection, with a kiss to hers,
then gazes at the stepfather with respect, painting
a memory for those of us who have become robots
to the ways of a quintessential dwelling place, a
place which we long to remember or , in some case,
experience, Yet will never know the warmth of being
a "baby" to a mother, or the "pride" of a fathers gaze,
Still, such scenes do exist, and I have witnessed the
momentary grace that is reached, when hearts become
infinite, and embrace their own as well as newcomers,
Sitting within the warm shelter of Pat's Kitchen, I record
and rewind the events for reasons beyond my control,
To make myself a member? To warm myself from the
depths of my own neglect? Or to take value in what
was deprived to me as a child? Reasons unknown or
all known, this moment opens a part of me I assumed
was condemned to the darkest depths of my isolation,
Thus, I fight myself to run from, and be a part of this
memory that is not mine, but the feeling, I envy. For a
moment, my cynicism is disregarded, and after thirteen
years, my eyes tear, my childhood is healed, and briefly,
I feel awake,
Copyright © Audonus Taylor | Year Posted 2010
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