I almost nod off
in the armchair
that my mother used to sit in
when she was here on Sundays for her dinner.
She was comfortable in this chair,
its wings wrapped around her shoulders
keeping out the draft, in our draftless house.
She would sleep after dinner,
as we washed and cleared away the dishes,
then I’d make a cup of tea
and we’d chat quietly,
the winter sun painting sepia shadows
on the living room walls.
It was the winter of her long life
and still she’d smile and pat my hand,
all was well.
It will be her birthday in a few days,
but she is no longer with us.
Now I doze in the armchair
full of memories,
and see November shadows
slowly move around the walls,
following the sun as it slips inevitably
towards the horizon.
Thank you so much to Ashley for sharing this beautiful poem about his dear mother who passed away in March 2016 – this is a very special tribute to her. We hope it touches you as much as it has touched us.
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Have a beautiful day, whatever that looks like to you 🤍