The Journeys End

A journey of whirlwinds warping my mind
The wind whispers memories -- a hand opens wide
Look back on those times

A mother cried

A storm seething beneath the darkest realm of my being
The tears swelling up obliviously -- a stain on the mind
No one can see

A mother tried

Caught in a nowhere you can't understand
The cold clear glass between us now stands -- I held out my hand
You didn't offer your hand

A mother died

  Joy Elaine -- August 28, 2001; Edited: April 27, 2014

Back to Homepage
Back to Poetry Page