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My Poetry

There She Is

2/21/2020

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There she is
My mother
In every detail of our home at the lake
The placement of each picture
And piece of decor
Still hanging
Where she wanted each piece to go

Only slight changes
As time takes its toll
As dust settles
As cobwebs come
And go
As wallpaper begins to peel
We have no choice but to repair it
​
Piece by piece we replace the parts
Of the home she built with John
Not making it better, just keeping it home
Our home
Her home
On the hill on Eagle Lake
Basking in the glory of the sunrise.
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