Poetry Every Sunday
Last Sunday I decided to publish here one of my poems every Sunday and, if possible, give the date of its writing, and something of its reason for existing, if of interest. Today's poem was finished on October 7, 1998, on the occasion of my research on the Lindbergh baby kidnapping in 1936. The baby was two years old. If you are not into poetry, try reading the poem aloud twice for better understanding. All my poems are copyrighted.
BITTERSWEET ©
Lindsley Rinard
Many months afterwards,
As if she wouldn’t be
Always remembering,
A tiny white sock, still warm,
Tumbled out of the dryer
With the rest of the laundry,
Compounding his 'forever two'
Presence with his stark absence.
A mother never needs
Reminding, but if it comes,
May it be as warm and soft
As this.
♥
I like the peom. You are right we mothers never need a reminder of our children they are always with us.
ReplyDeleteI laughed when you made the corralation between my wedding dots and the dots on my blog. They are both brown dots. The color doesnt matter to me, just that they are dots. They dont have distinct sides, or sharp edges. Could be a medifor for my life? Interesting.