mum...

A Poem by Brad

just an ode to my mother...

there we sat

next to one another

talking, hugging, kissing

memories come to me

when i'm with you

i feel small again

the little boy

with the smooth face

curly black pompadour

i remember your hands

nicely manicured

but calloused hands

from working three or more jobs

to keep me fed

to keep me clothed

i remember fishing on the bridge

playing on Ewa Beach

picnics and birthday parties

i can admit at 37

that i was a spoiled kid

had what i wanted

and you showed your interest

with enthusiasm

everything i tried

and when i was older

i protected you

the best i could from abuse

from the hurt brought home

i listened to you crying late at night

i listened to you screaming for help

as things were smashed and broken

we've been through a lot

you and i

and now i look at your hands

still beautifully manicured

but they are wrinkled

skin like spiderwebs on them

skin begining to sag

still soft but old

worn

and i can't stop from crying

because i realize

that i will lose you someday

someday soon

no more late night chats

annoying phone calls

no one left to call me "son"

how will that day be?

i know i've grown

into a man you didn't want me to be

you expected more

you wanted more

and i threw that away

i'm sorry, mum,

i made stupid choices

but i'm still me

somewhere down here

wishing to stay up late

one more night with you

sipping coffee

eating toast

and remembering

© 2010 Brad

Author's Note

i had coffee with my mom one day, we met half way from minnesota to nebraska, we talked about the old days, growing up, and i began to compare the woman to her former self...she is the strongest woman i know, she's survived a lot, and at 70 she still has some kick to her

My Review

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Reviews

She reminds me of my mother, even down to the hands..I was left with a lump in my throat and a tea in my eye..mum's are the best...and this is a fitting ode.