Soup of Love Day (3) Napowrimo

napofeature2She wore her cotton purpled sash squares through each yard.

For I never saw a mother with such a discerning eye.

While the day withered from sunshine to bitter night.

 

For I never saw a mother feed the dead.

In her kitchen with each tool and recipe,

sweeping rounded pipes of potted meat

 

For I never  saw a mother with such a piercing look

tumbling in and out of oven-soot.

 

Her humbled feet grounded by the gardens leaves,

just to sing a mumbled tune.

Ah- if that mother’s son could only breathe

For I never saw a mother feed the dead,

with such a discerning eye.

11 thoughts on “Soup of Love Day (3) Napowrimo

  1. Pingback: Poem / Poetry – “When The Tornado Strikes” | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.