Memories
Her room is filled with special things.
The bric-a-brac a lifetime brings.
Porcelain, plastic, and stone are there
And pictures hang most everywhere.
Each surface is covered from ceiling to floor,
All precious memories of her days of yore.
The lamp shades are dingy, relics of better times.
The clock on the wall no longer chimes.
Faded and worn, the furniture sits
Near an old basket where she often knits.
Her husband and children are gone from her life,
Chased away by her own need for strife.
By choice, she's alone for the rest of her days,
Lost in a dream, a drug-induced haze.
Betrayal and heart break she's reaped and she's sown.
In self-pity she wallows, her sorrow to hone.
Her story she bellows in her silent rage
Entrapped forever in a drug-induced cage.
Memories of hate always rise above
The years with her family and their undying love.
I miss you, mom.
Theresa
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Reproduction of watercolor dragon approved by the artist.
To view more of her work, click here.
