My Grandmother's Ruby Ring

Did not filter
down to me
who wanted it.  I
was not as great a beauty 
as my mother, one
of 8 my grandmother
birthed: 2 daughters
made the cut.
My mother in sepia 
light of an old 
photograph is seated
at the piano, head
bent over sheet music 
as if about to play
(except her sister
was the musical one)
She's wearing 
a necklace that
she and her sister
lusted for
to wear when
dressing up. Her sister
not as great a beauty 
as my mother who 
wears the necklace
down the front
of her dress.  She
wears no smile, 
no need
to beguile. Beauty
was her duty.
She did it
surpassingly
well.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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

Turner Avatar
January 27, 2016 at 3:53 PM
One can sense a little animosity here. "Beauty of whatever kind, in it's supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." Edgar Allen Poe.
Turner Avatar
January 28, 2016 at 7:51 AM
I am sorry for your loss The beauty I was speaking of in the quote was your beauty as a person.
Perez Avatar
January 28, 2016 at 7:47 AM
My mother's beauty destroyed her: alcoholism and cancer. Truly one of T. Williams' fragile Southern women. Life did not work for her. Thanks for commenting... Nola
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace