g’night
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~ for Mom ~
you …
kiss my hand three times
as tender as a thistle, borne
‘my angel’ you whisper, as I kiss yours -
skin as thin as paper
careworn by the million things you
have done for me, but warm …
I turn at the door to
shut the light -
just in time to snatch your
sweetened kiss from the air
I return the same …
hugging it to your chest like
a child’s doll,
you smile, eyes closed -
‘I love you’ we exchange softly …
such a silly little ritual
among a thousand others we have
yielded over the years …
but none as precious
none as dear to my being
none that I now miss as terribly
for the sadly sobering fact
that we will never, ever … ever
share it …
again.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2024
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