Mother’s Lament

Her room was empty,

Except it was not.

Filled with the trappings of

Her life like

the abandoned teddy she received from her

First boyfriend,

The now barren desk she hammered out

Her last minute essays,

The blue fairy curtains

That captured her dreams, 

And the small empty trinket box

She once kept her bicycle lock key in.

A part of me went with her,

Or so I felt.

For sure, life will continue,

Just my breath comes in ragged jabs

And my voice wavers and my eyes are flat.

Oh to laugh over popcorn and the Arsenio Hall show,

To sing while I did mountains of her laundry,

To bake her favorite cookies,

To run out the door late yet another day

While she procrastinated about

Getting out of bed.

Will my house ever

Hold that level of love again?

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