Mother Is The Name
The mantle gleans a life,
all your friends are ochre in moods
A picturesque while too imminent a grasp,
loyalty burns many gone too soon
This ramshackle house,
hidden beneath recondite changes
A picture of the trendy girl from ‘65,
a telling smile amongst sages
You keep music closer than family,
every note reads your mind
I wish you were real again, a waking picture
Reminding me ‘’it costs nothing to be kind’’
Your rooms are estranged,
phobia fills all questions
Has the television static conversed?
Will your broken piano learn its lessons?
Mother, life has progressed in shapes
I am a fading place without a right
Blood of your mantle knows its safe,
to be ‘65 in sages light
So go to them. Find your friends.
Don’t keep them waiting
I will clean the house that is passing
Mother, your name is blazing.
Copyright © Nathan Zinghini | Year Posted 2025
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