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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2125183
A life story presenting itself through my eyes as a child.
LIFE DON’T MAKE NO MATTER NO MORE

As we gaze beyond the front yard where plants and flowers she grows in shades of seasons,
She so perfectly nurtured and groom without losing the perfection of each beautiful new offspring, she says “life don’t make no matter no more.”

Stories abound of tales of unknown worlds, those of spirits, and voodoo dolls. At times making me shutter from thoughts beyond our universe in realms of fantasy and make believe. Yet so often I run home from school just to listen to the next adventure awaiting me. Never repeating the same story twice to keep my interest and engage in her creative thought that always ended by her saying “life don’t make no matter no more.”

Two children she raised on a farm where my childhood memories linger of summer days riding the horses after they grazed. Then one day she stepped in the barn where her husband lay dead from a bullet he put through his head. We stood at the door listening to her say “life don’t make no matter no more.”

The City became home. A small dark apartment she kept with a fruitful yard of her favorite flowers. A place she never left. A place so dark and deep no one knew she was even there. Fingers yellowed from cigarettes; a dry cough as she lingered over a puzzle that took only a day to do; or a crossword puzzle that she finished in a flash of an eye. Little did she speak these days, other than to utter “life make no matter no more.”

No comfort did she find in human companionship or a gentle touch upon her hand. She would stare without emotion because for her “life make no matter no more.”

I recall the day, the last day of her life, when I sat beside her holding her hand. Sadden by the thought that she has finished her final chapter; and through her heaving breath, her last breath I heard her say “life make no matter no more.”
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