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Mother Left Six Weeks Ago

NOTE: This poem is NOT autobiographical. It is strictly a work of FICTION.
 
  

Mother left six weeks ago, said nothing, no goodbyes.
Wearily she climbed in bed, and then she closed her eyes.
 
Next morning when we found her in the light of day,
Like a stream in summer’s drought, she had passed away.
 
Now it’s time to sort her trash, sort her treasures too—
When your mother leaves this life, that’s what you must do.
 
By the attic window purses lined up in a row,
Bags of shoes, and dusty dresses—everything must go.
 
Pass me mother’s rosary, and some tissues too.
Say a little prayer for me; I’ll say one for you.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher