Perfect
Perfect
I catch myself thinking
I have to call my mother or
My mother would like
That Christmas card
With the kittens
But there are no more phone calls
And no more Christmases
For her
Or for me with her
No more wondering
What I would buy a woman who says
“I don’t need anything”?
No more
Complaining that I
Have to take a bus and a train
And a bus
To visit her
In a perfect world
I would have been the perfect daughter
More attentive
More caring
More loving
In a perfect heaven
My mother would be with my father
He no longer yells
Or worries about money
Or forgets who she is
They would sing songs together
As they used to
On a perfect Christmas
There would be a
Silent Night
And that is what
I have now
But it seems
Less than
Perfect
December 22, 2009
Copyright © Corinne Curcio | Year Posted 2009
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