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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2224577
The spirit of Mom pays a visit.
Outré realms have been stirring for many a night;
they at first were sufficient to give me a fright.
As the wind blew frenetic, afar from the calm,
little did I imagine the Spirit of Mom.

She was paying me heed from dimensions on high;
(I was more than convinced she regretted goodbye.)
At my core I perceived she conjoined with the breeze
in announcing her presence atop maple trees.

There was chill in my spine and a lump in my neck;
to be sure in the dark I was one nervous wreck.
Yet the driving initiative beyond beware
was the knowledge that Spirit of Mom filled the air.

Like the strength of a matriarch, breeze pounded roof;
(I did not need a visual—this was my proof.)
Then like comforting hands I knew well were her love,
came a willow-like rush of warm air from above.

There were echoes of yesterday coming on through;
many parts of the past she provided on cue.
All my fears were allayed as her gentleness reigned;
so much caring concern as my strength was regained.

Then as quick as she came she departed for good;
In the chill of that June rain I had understood
that the Spirit of Mom paid me homage indeed:
loving memories heal—there is always a need.

24 Lines
Anapestic Tetrameter
Writer’s Cramp
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