My Regret
the phone rang during supper.
No one wanted to get it.
We were devouring butterscotch pie.
My favorite with graham cracker crust.
My mother called my name
Said “get the phone”
I jumped up
An old lady said “Is your mother there?”
I made fun of the old lady’s voice as I handed the phone to Mom.
Mom yelled “DICK!”
Dad jumped up and grabbed Mom before she hit the floor.
She had fainted.
It was my grandfather on the phone.
Not an old lady, just a crackly grief-stricken voice.
My mother’s mother had died that day.
I could not face butterscotch pie for fifty years after this.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
