I am his keeper.
Feathery wisp, tinged with faintest auburn,
Touching his hair,
Long decades unmussed.
Tugging it once more,
Like the baby I was.
Did he laugh? Or cry?
Or pay me back?
Onto my brother’s lock.
Posted by Katy
on 01/28/11 at 01:55 PM
- Oh Katy... Please pass the tissue. You have some there in front of you, don't you?
Posted by Sharen on 01/28/11 at 02:40 PM
- Sharen, Bless you!!! (And not for sneezing....) I would happily share my Kleenex with you any day, my sister-writer-friend!! Thank you.
Posted by Katy on 01/28/11 at 04:18 PM
- Beautiful, Katy!
My mother is in the NH with Alzheimer's and I seem to be the only one now who knows or cares about her stories. Regretfully, my only sibling was my sister who died at birth before I was born. My mother never talked about her but I think she might have in later years. I won't know now, so I'll just have to meet her in heaven.
Thanks for your beautiful poetry today!
Posted by Debra E. Marvin on 01/28/11 at 04:23 PM
- This is completely beautiful, Katy. Thank you.
Posted by Candace on 01/28/11 at 09:12 PM
- Debra, Even when our parents become demented, they are often--I think--telling true stories. Maybe not factual, but still true. You are blessing your mom and yourself by being there and listening! And you are so right---there are some stories we won't hear until heaven. There's a bittersweetness to that, isn't there? I try to tell myself that every time I'm with Mom, we're writing a piece of a new story, one I'm telling even now....Bless you.
Posted by Katy on 01/29/11 at 06:45 AM
- Candace, You are so kind! Thank you, my friend.
Posted by Katy on 01/29/11 at 06:46 AM
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