by jeanne rené
... some memories on this Mother's Day
I miss
fabulous frogs
held up under my nose
to my cross-eyed astonishment,
. . . the snail parade on the patio steps,
and my disappearing pots and pans,
to brew the scrumptious dirt stew.
I miss
looking out the kitchen window,
watching the wind flapping the corners
of the old bedspread tent,
. . . the sound
of the bat hitting the cement ,
and new jeans with holes in the knees
from sliding into first base.
I miss
action figures with one arm,
shoe boxes of matchstick cars,
kissing puppy giggles,
chasing extraordinary pigeons,
and cries “I can’t get down from the tree!”
If I turn my hourglass over
can each grain of sand be etched
with the past . . .
I miss
two sleepy heads
bobbing in the back seat,
pulling up in the driveway late at night,
and gently disturbing their dreams,
. . . giving a kiss on each sticky forehead,
and turning off the lights with a prayer on my lips.
jeanne rené 10/04
