My mother was a wonderful woman. Beautiful, young, and strong. I
always loved her for that, but then again sometimes I hated her for it. She had
no flaws other than her love for my father. I think that's what did her in. She
loved him just as much as she loved me. She was too kind for her own good.
Never thinking a thing of me as any more than her child. I couldn't have been
more than six or seven. Yes, seven. It was my birthday I believe, the night
"he" died, and she fell from her joy into a pit of despair. However,
on that day she was so pretty in her dress. I loved it. I loved her. The way it
made her seem as if she floated across the floor. I didn't have many friends. So
all I had was mamma, but she had father as well. I knew from a young age I
loved my mother. She was everything I a lady should be. They say boys tend to
marry women like their mothers, but I don't think I would have been content
with that at the time. My mother was everything to me. My rock as some say. When
I was a child we used to play house. I the husband, she the wife. I still
remember those days. Before father died. Before she forgot and forsake me in
her tears. When he was gone I thought I would have a chance to express myself,
but I was rejected. She had such a look of disgust. I never wanted to see that
look again. Never. Then she died as well. Falling from the top of the
stairwell. Her look of shock and fear as she reached out for me. All too
late mother. I did love you, and still do. Your memory, your body, your long,
flowing dress, and the smell of summer blooms. Shimmering threw the air as your
body floated down. Like a fallen angle. Or, a dead weight.
Hi. Pretty good, imho. You might change a few of the "to"s into "too"s. Also I think the phrase you're looking for is "a dead weight". Otherwise, pretty interesting and evocative.
Hey all! My name is Aaron G. I just got back to this sight and edited all my poems. Mostly grammar and flow. However I’m glad to be back, and hopefully while I’m at work I can come up with.. more..