|
|
|
|
When Time Stood Still
by LaVonne Boruk
Thunder rolled across the dark and dreary sky
and I could smell the rain as it settled the dust
in the cotton fields that glistened snowy white;
the fragrance of mama's scrapbook tied with
a yellow ribbon hung heavy in the room; the taste
was like a green persimmon--bittersweet and rusty
as nails too long in the weather.
Lightning that shimmied and streaked across the sky
showed contrition's veneer painted lily-white
was not worthy of heaven’s melodious dance
then angels' wrath opened wide the floodgates
sweet memories bore down upon my heart,
rendering me weak as a feather twirling and
twisting and tumbling in the wind.
Slowly she loosed the ribbon and allowed its contents
to spill out for all to see. Mama's perfume
permeated the room, more magnificent than the
magnolias that blossomed sweet and lemony on
the grand old tree that stood just beyond the
verandah, where mama used to sun herself
just outside the wide open window.
Its blossoms wept. Tears of joy, tears of sadness and
remembrance of days gone by, nights from long ago
when she stood by the window and prayed for Him
to watch over her sons and the sons and daughters
of others gone to war on some distant shore, she
knew not where, nor did it matter, gently she closed
the scrapbook and laid it to rest.
Thunder ceased its grumbling, the lightning stopped its torrid
dance, the magnolia smiled at us and dried its tears,
dark clouds went away replaced by their silver lining
and the sun came out as if to say it couldn't outshine
mama's light, and it dared not try to compete so it hid
itself in a bushel until mama's precious scrapbook
tied with yellow ribbon was put away.
©1999 LaVonne Boruk
Let's Talk About It!
Join us to talk about this poem in the
Writers newsgroup.
|
|
