I left it on my bed, dear mother,
As far as, my eyes have seen.
It's there, why don't you just look?
Look harder then, it's there!
Not like I buried it in the sea.
There it is on the bed! See!?
Covered up by dark woolen sheets.
Just lift up the covers,
Find what you'll discover . . .
No, that really is just me.
What did you expect there be,
Lying in your daughter's bed?
What fantastic ideas were in your head?
What did you think was in place of me in My bed?
Your very strange mother,
With the ways you gaze through me.
I guess I could understand you,
If you'd just speak with me.
Nope, lips are sealed,
With regretful chains too tight to break.
I've been trying all my life,
But instead we sit, wait on the knife.
What are we waiting for?
The final match and then, your life's score?
Ever thought, that's not enough, I want more?
It feels sometimes like were strangers.
And I don't understand.
I gave you my ideas, dreams in a jar.
My plans, you said you understand.
And I swear. I love you, that much is true.
But you don't know me Mother,
and because of that I can't know you . . .
I left "me" on the bed, dear Mother
But you never recognized, your little one, was now me.















Comments
--
Everybody keeps wondering what the answer is to "the question"... My wondering is what the hell is the question?
Would you mind if I sent this poem to both my wife and my mother ? (my wife so she and I both remember it while dealing with our new (10 month old) twins and my mother - for varrious reasons .. one being she is a shrink lol
--
this shared dream of ours - this life, we take it each day as though an infanit number remain. We must remember that each is precious as are the people we meet. for we are here but an instant then gone
and no i don't mind, be my guest, just make sure my screen name is attached to it thank you.. one does not like the writting stolen in sorts of ways heh.. *hugs* thanks so much!
--
Everybody keeps wondering what the answer is to "the question"... My wondering is what the hell is the question?
--
this shared dream of ours - this life, we take it each day as though an infanit number remain. We must remember that each is precious as are the people we meet. for we are here but an instant then gone
--
Everybody keeps wondering what the answer is to "the question"... My wondering is what the hell is the question?
Next Page