Just a momentary

glimpse back .....

 ©-2015-Matthew F.Blowers III

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He grinned at me

over some "off the cuff" link 

I had just made with him,

a connection long sought

a verbal spar,

parried

as he stood poised 

between a child and teen.

Not an easy reach 

for a farther, a father.

Hair hanging lanky, in his blue green eyes,

lips spread like no end.

He grinned at my remark,

not remarkable by his standards,

but funny enough

to crack that mask of adolescence,

long enough to let me see

my little boy again.

Orphan of Ashes...

A Glimpse Back At Mom.

 © -1997-Matthew F. Blowers III 

Her Mu-Mu hangs

in the spare bedroom closetcloset

like a really loud shower curtain

and sometimes it calls me

to draw near it.

recapturing the essemce of her.

It carries a faint trace of her perfume,

in the huge flowered prints it bears.

A pair of white canvas loafers sits below it,

right where she stepped out of them

and into enternity.

A couple of paperbacks

with weak spines,

lie open on the page

she paused at.

One might almost

expect her to waltz in 

and shimmy into this garish garment,

slip on her loafers 

and just pick up on chapter four.

But she's tucked neatly in an urn,

on a coffee table at my sisters,

Now she's surrounded by silk flowers

much like the ones on this Mu-Mu.

I can't bring myself to

 throw this stuff away,

it's all that I have left of Mom.

A couple of K-mart leftovers,

 some gothic horror novels,

and the ashes of a love that was

beyond all expectations.

So I close the door on

this moment in time,

framed like a still life painting 

minus the centerpiece,

in the back hall of my

humbled abode.