Two Mothers Two Daughters

 

 

 

We reach the home.

 

Twilight deepens.

 

I promised to show up before

 

darkness.

 

You will not find

 

people you used to know.

 

My daughter talks of

 

friends, food, the weather,

 

about  things she thinks you know.

 

If I tried to speak to you

 

would you listen

 

would  you recognize a touch as a touch of love?

 

You have stopped mumbling.

 

As I drive over a bump

 

your frail body falls forward.

 

We have never been close.

 

Is it my death that makes me so short-tempered?

 

Is it my death that makes me so short-tempered?

 

We have never been close.

 

Your frail body falls forward

 

as I drive over a bump.

 

You have stopped mumbling -

 

do  you recognize my touch as a touch of love?

 

Would you listen

 

if I tried to speak to you

 

about things you once knew:

 

the straight road to the dike, our farm, ring-riding?

 

My daughter talks of

 

people you used to know.

 

You will not find

 

darkness.

 

I promised to show up before

 

twilight deepens.

 

We reach the home.