Ankica Montgomery Poet Free verse

My Mother Tells Me

My mother tells me
the ways the world used to be.
She says—
it used to snow on Christmas Day
the trees would turn red and orange
and yellow in the autumn months.
She tells me of a great reef in the ocean
dressed and dazzling in more colors than a child could dare 
to dream

My mother tells me
of something she calls “bitter”
that it chilled the bone
and left frost on the morning grass in place of dew

My mother tells me 
of bird sounds in the morning
the screech of owls and twitters of robins and blue jays
greeting the rising sun,
carried by breezes

My mother tells me 
of bees in spring
and dandelion-green-and-yellow knees in summer

And sometimes, in the early morning light,
I can almost recall
a wanderlust from a home I’ve never known
Memories that fade and fall like snowflakes and the ice at
the edge of the world
And I—
I cannot help
but to cradle them in my warm, warm hands,
melting them,
picturing how the world must’ve looked.

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Beata Agustin September 15, 2026 at 10:45 PM Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.

Alison A Smith nee Howarth September 12, 2026 at 3:45 AM A haunting, beautifully restrained free-verse poem. The repeated “My mother tells me” creates a tender oral-history rhythm, while the childlike wonder of snow, reefs, birds, bees, and seasons makes the environmental loss feel intimate rather than abstract. The ending—cradling vanishing memories in “warm, warm hands”—is especially poignant: love, grief, and the changing climate converge in one unforgettable image.