On Mothering Sunday, a couple of poems for all of us orphans. My mother passed some time ago, long before she should have, and I still think about her almost every day and visit her grave from time to time... An inspirational, kind-hearted soul and my mum...
The morphine kicks in,
Liquid lull of warm blood, mixing, melding,
Rinsing those last corpuscles of thought.
You are drifting away from me,
Tired and weary...
You are drifting away from me.
I hold your hand,
Knowing that I'll never be able to do this again,
Because you are drifting away,
And love and memory hammers at my heart and brain
As I feel the tremble of life in your fingers, fade...
And great big hugs.
Melting in my fingers,
As I pull them from the brass containers
Set in marble stone
At your grave.
I replace the flowers with new ones,
Bright yellow blooms shining brightly in the sun.
I know you can't see them,
But I wish you could.