A Reminder

A woman leaning

into an open window

sighs…

By-and-by she smiles.

…..

What is it that endures, 

having witnessed,

a long time ago,

her soul wholly enveloped

in psychedelic thought

that promises nothing

of what it is she hopes to redeem,

tunneling through mute reflections

that talk and talk – constant

their unhurried measure.

Glancing at her again now,

I sense a real sweetness to her smile –

leaning in closer,

her eyes seem to posess

an intense dialogic allocution –

involved with everything

conferred deep inside

by her own sanctioning.

Yet there she rests –

a simple handbreadth away.

Blessed by the silent touch

of her adept grace,

I traipse briefly amongst

fond remembrances that elicit, 

first a mood, but then a need

to voice her name,

 early one Sunday morning.

 My mother’s image –

a work of art to some, 

and I, but a simple derivative

of its creation –

our common bond

that was gifted

down through generations,

acting as a reminder

that we are never alone.