My Mothers Voice

I rode by that old home place just yesterday  
And noticed that the grass and weeds were tall 
I stopped and sat upon the wooden door steps 
And I thought I heard my mama give me a call 
She said supper’s on the table, come on in son 
Wash your hands and make sure that they’re clean 
But when I turned my head toward her voice 
That sweet mother of mine could not be seen 
The wind blew through the cracks in the woodwork 
As I stepped inside the dark and drafty hall 
I felt my mama’s presence close beside me 
As I ran my fingers gently along the wall 
Twenty years I lived behind this front door 
Before I finally left for another life 
I left my mama and my papa to themselves 
As I moved to the big city with my wife 
Several years ago we buried papa 
And last year mama laid right next door  
But when I stepped inside the drafty hallway 
I can still feel their memories for ever more 
Slowly I make my way back to the city 
To my wife’s open arms that feel so fine 
But every now and again I visit the home place 
Just to hear my mama’s voice one more time  
She say’s supper’s on the table, come on in son 
Wash your hands and make sure that they’re clean 
But when I turned my head toward her voice 
That sweet mother of mine cannot be seen
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace