Fine linen stained with tears 

©-1997-Matthew . F Blowers III 
Art~Whimsically Yours Studio 

Fine linen tablecloths 

stained with years 

gravy spots, 

and various juices served, 

several cigarette holes 

and a lipstick smear. 



All folded now and tucked 

neatly away in the drawer 

by the hamper in the hall 

back when we had so much more. 


i don't have the heart 

to dispose of them 

they held so much 

that was hearty 

each chronicles 

her labors of love. 


Mom presented great 

stories on that linen, 

spelled out in alphabet soups, 

where we minded our peas 

and her cues to always 

say blessing before digging in. 


She offered us meaty tales 

that had juicy endings, 

beneath each flowery 

rectangle cover. 


We all spilled the beans 

many a night there, 

changing famine to family 

as five ravenous Kids 

devoured many chapters 

of her cookbooks. 


She served us love 

in covered casseroles, 

and we gobbled it down, 

in a hurry to get back to the play 

that all kids hunger for more in. 


Each linen is an archive 

of seasons long past 

some speckled with bits of glitter 

from Christmas Centerpieces, 

or spots of pastel dyes 

from many Easter eggs dipped. 


Mom is gone now 

all of her brightness faded 

like her treasured cloths 

and Dad followed her in 

her long journey 

faithful to the end 
. 

But her linen remains 

much like the Shroud of Turin 

or should I say 

her Shroud of Tureen. 


Each is stained 

by her loving efforts 

and sacrifice, 

polka dotted with 

the marks of her 

spuds, suds, sweat and tears 

that bled priceless 

residues of her 

impeccable love.