Two Poems: One More Day & She Grew Old
One More Day It left her young, For her old age-- As she would say: 'I'm looking at another day.
' All her hours Were butterfly songs Warmly fashioned Through her hum...
! Shiny days, and nights: At the end of her life, She had a rainbow Kind of sight...
! Note: #1406 written at El Parquetito, café, Miraflores, Lima Peru.
7/28/2006; my mother's last years of life, were calm, refreshing, peaceful, but of course, she made it that way.
We spent a lot of time together those last four months, it meant a lot to her and me, taking her out eating, to the river, here and there, watching movies with her.
You can tell when someone is on their way out.
They seem to be OK for a while then they drop a few feet, tired, hard to fight back, that is a sign you have little time left with that loved one.
I am so glad I saw the signs, we had a merry old time those last months.
She Grew Old I, whose longing never dies, Things I will never know or tell Often wondered, how she'd die.
As I traveled around the world Under fairer skies than mine, Peaceful valley's did she find; She did not seek a richer part Where she travels, goes her heat! In the winter, she knitted and sowed, With wonder and desire, she grew old.
#1407 written: 7/30/06 at 'La Perla Piurana,' Lima, Peru.
My mother tried to live a simple life, not sure if that looks good in the eyes of the world, but it fascinated me, perhaps because I wanted touch the stars, and she was so content, on earth.
' All her hours Were butterfly songs Warmly fashioned Through her hum...
! Shiny days, and nights: At the end of her life, She had a rainbow Kind of sight...
! Note: #1406 written at El Parquetito, café, Miraflores, Lima Peru.
7/28/2006; my mother's last years of life, were calm, refreshing, peaceful, but of course, she made it that way.
We spent a lot of time together those last four months, it meant a lot to her and me, taking her out eating, to the river, here and there, watching movies with her.
You can tell when someone is on their way out.
They seem to be OK for a while then they drop a few feet, tired, hard to fight back, that is a sign you have little time left with that loved one.
I am so glad I saw the signs, we had a merry old time those last months.
She Grew Old I, whose longing never dies, Things I will never know or tell Often wondered, how she'd die.
As I traveled around the world Under fairer skies than mine, Peaceful valley's did she find; She did not seek a richer part Where she travels, goes her heat! In the winter, she knitted and sowed, With wonder and desire, she grew old.
#1407 written: 7/30/06 at 'La Perla Piurana,' Lima, Peru.
My mother tried to live a simple life, not sure if that looks good in the eyes of the world, but it fascinated me, perhaps because I wanted touch the stars, and she was so content, on earth.
