Not old women who still look great
Literally, old toy dolls
Handed down to you from your Mom
An original Shirley Temple Doll
Flowing golden locks, rosy pink cheeks
A tiny flower on her off-white satin dress
A Patsy Doll, the rage in the 30’s
Chubby cheeks, sky blue eyes
Her pink dress a little tattered, but
still suitable for playing hopscotch
in the red brick alley
where your Mom twice skinned her knees
Others, even older, maybe a hundred or more
Smiling youthful faces fixed for eternity
Eyes gazing beyond where we can see, and
beyond all memories
They sit together in the antique chair
in the back bedroom, where
you keep your Dad’s ashes
In the memory room, where
we slip away and remember, and
where tears seem to come from nowhere
the ending got to me — wonderful work
Rob: Thanks. How are you? Everything in life comes from nothing (no-thing) and goes back to the very same…
Kai: Thanks. Glad you enjoyed.
Dan: Thanks, and the tears flow in memory room.
I admire the way you can make a poem out of apparently mundane material.
Rob
beautiful.
Yep!