Musings of Mother
"I shall be telling this with a sigh"
Robert Frost
My thoughts they roil like waters dark
in the abyss of blackest night
with memories of mother’s book marks
of Longfellow read by lamp light.
She called in the room around me
the patter of other small feet,
her gentle voice fetched angels
Oh, rhymes how they astounded me
like lullabies soft and so sweet.
All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel
Maxine, my queen read Tennyson
and the Charge of the Light Brigade
a little girl dreamt of caissons
roll and thunderous cannonades.
To be so brave the small child mused
mother’s small, precious, heroine
what would it take to stand so strong
without father, and not confused
What words where the linchpin
to right mother’s tell tale wrong.
Such sad inspiration*.. mother
but a champion you were born.
You’re adored before all others
yet, tears bring memories forlorn.
So, dreams stream on of Mother Goose
three kittens and their mittens.
My visions of your fleeting smile
return almost every night,
and your spirit comforts, lightens
sights, if only for a little while.
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