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I THINK OF HER
Frenetically I rest in her guest room.
I think of her quiet hospital room.
I’ve laid my head on this pillow before.
I toss, turn, and pray, in this cozy room.
The lamp that’s lit sees the quiver of lips.
The cool sheets rumple my soul in this room.
The morning will bring no kitchen nesting.
Silence of pantry doors - feastless, this room.
Cars leave the driveway while mom’s still alive.
The staff is preparing her hospice room.
The transport holds my heart; mom’s head is bare.
Tender care, support, comfort in the room.
I shared a scintilla of who mom is.
Caregiver softly stroked mom’s brow, in room.
After she passed, saw a tear on her cheek.
Her bones turning to stone in this room.
This daughter remembers the softest hands.
In dream, mom squeezes mine, from heav’n’s room
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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