Kathleen
Kathleen
My name
is hers.
Sort of.
Similar yet different
because I am.
Altered,
this strong Irish name for a
weak Sicilian nonna.
Heart it was.
Children’s laughter killed her,
roared his grief.
They grew with guilt.
I, inherited the heart
but I am not weak with
this strong Irish name.
Laughter is medicinal.
I live past her years.
Copyright © Kathy Tauber | Year Posted 2015
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