Mom, she says, Stop crying.
She’s embarrassed for me.
I can’t stop. After three hours
of snuggling on the green couch,
we are nearing the end of our book,
where the silverback gorilla
and the baby elephant say goodbye
to the girl who has helped them
leave their cages. It is not
the farewell that makes me weep,
though that, too, but the way
that the girl and the gorilla
share a passion for art. It’s so good,
I say to my girl between sniffs,
it’s so rare and so good to find someone
who really understands you.
She looks at me as if she will never
comprehend how such a thing
could make someone cry.
My tears land on the end of the chapter,
leaving a wet trail I don’t
expect her to follow, not yet,
her small hand already
pushing on mine to turn the page.
Beautiful poem
Thanks Vonita it was such a surprise when I realized why I was crying. I suppose as much as anything out of gratitude for the communion I feel with other people about writing oh the sweetness of it!
It also occurs to me that my daughter and I are in the communion of readers
All the best to you! r
Watch my TEDx talk The Art of Changing Metaphors: TEDX Rosemerry Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer 970-729-1838 wordwoman.com
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Monday, February 20, 2017 at 11:32 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Next Chapter”
WordPress.com
Gorgeous, the last line. Love when that happens, sadly not as common as I’d like myself as a writer, but perhaps all the better when it does.
Thanks friend!
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Tuesday, February 21, 2017 at 9:01 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Next Chapter”
WordPress.com