Mom is Gone

Poetry 101

I sit on the couch of my childhood
And in a moment I am transported
For in front of me, my mother stood
This can not be, for death has exhorted

Yet there once again my Mom cooks
Thrice in a single night for one meal
She is before me, in her hands books
These wounds don't ever seem to heal

Love of a child for a Mother lost
An evil in her which did not belong
Death ever waiting high is your cost
Felling the mighty and the strong

Memories flood and in sleep produce
Tears for a long ago childhood wrong
Now I know a memory did seduce
For I have been alone all along