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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1207509
by Fyn
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1207509
Perhaps she ran away...or perhaps she's running towards....
The last time I saw my mother was 15 years ago.
She was headed off to the mists of Eire
And then where, even she didn’t know.
A postcard arrived from Carrick-en-sur
A ‘wish you were here’ but not really, it seems
And then she was off for Bladen-on Dur.

They didn’t have Google back in the day
And I couldn’t find that place on the map.
A package arrived full of Wedgewood and hay.
Thought you might like this, said a brief note
And then several years passed with nary a word.
Front page in the paper-- was that her on that boat?

The picture was small, the details unclear,
But if that were she, she’d survived the big storm,
And likely as not, once she’d set foot on the pier
Was off for France or maybe Zaire.
Then came the spread in Life magazine-
She’s waving from a balloon way up in the air.

Then came a letter, much traveled and stained
An updated account of her travels thus far-
She was now in the Amazon and sick of the rain.
She might be home soon, could she stay for a bit?
Like she needed to ask? I prepared her room.
She never showed up, but her email did.

She’d be in Alaska from now until May-
After the sled-dog race, could I join her there
Up in Fairbanks? She’d pay my way.
For a brief moment, my mind yearned to be free,
Just for once to pick up and go….
But I’ve the kids and a job and a mortgage, you see.

Didn’t matter, she’d been on her way in week
Off to China to walk a bit of the Wall
And then on to climb a K-something peak.
She’s happy and healthy and having a ball.
Someday, perhaps, I shall be in her shoes
And go see the world, not just parts, but it all!
© Copyright 2007 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1207509