SHE SITS IN MY PORCH IN
THE SUMMER SUN,
WAVING AND NODDING TO
EVERYONE.
REMEMBERING DAYS WHEN
SHE WAS A CHILD
ALONG WITH HER
BROTHERS, RUNNING WILD.
SPEAKS OF HER GOWN IN
WHITE SATIN AND LACE AND THE DAY HER WEDDING TOOK PLACE.
TALKS OF HER BOY, A
YOUTH FAIR AND TALL,
THAT HE DIED IN THE WAR
SHE’S NO NOTION AT ALL.
OF HER DAUGHTER THERE’S
NO RECALL.
EACH DAY AS THE CLOCK
IN THE HALL CHIMES THREE
SHE WONDERS WHAT JACK
MIGHT LIKE FOR HIS TEA.
PATIENTLY WAITS FOR HIS
KEY IN THE DOOR
THOUGH DAD’S BEEN GONE
THESE TEN YEARS OR MORE.
WE SHARE OUR EVENINGS
COMPANIONABLY
LISTENING TO MUSIC,
WATCHING TV.
NOW IT’S MY TURN TO
CARE FOR
MOTHER AND ME.
By Gladys Taylor
