Faye Gibson Poet Free verse

Beguiled

You home for a holiday,
 belly gorged on favorites, 
 soft couch cradling like a mother's arms. . .
 since you grew up, 
 shed child skin,  
 thin facial hair shading jaw, 
 even when days were tough, 
 rough making it alone, 
 you came home on holidays. 
 Your laughter blending with the chatter, 
 clatter of dishes, pots, pans, 
 sisters catching up, 
 nieces, nephews climbing up
 to sit on lap, lie on shoulder. 
 All got older;
 drill sergeant time barking commands,
 remands to custody 
 faces more precious than treasure. 
 Measure joy?
 not mother love for little boy;
 let us go on forever
 counting jokes and smiles, 
 beguiled.

Copyright, Faye Lanham Gibson
June 28, 2017

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Dale Gregory Cozart June 28, 2017 at 2:14 PM The happy memories are always the best ones, aren't they? They sustain us until we're strong enough to look at the hard parts. Though it might be best not to blame ourselves too much if we feel we could've done something better. We can't change it now. Very moving.