Dancing in the Sunlight

The old woman danced in the afternoon sunlight,

not with nimble feet, but frozen hands.


Just my mother, you see - never able to gain a wide berth of trouble...

Sitting there in the shadows I watched,

carefully tracing the edges of the antiseptic room;

white were the curtains, large the windows of the soul -

every gloriously tiled footstep caused a squeek, squeek, squeek on the floor...


Here at the end, we stood...

and yet the flood had not been released,

nay, not even a drop was shed...


Another minute or two passed, I knew I'd never speak to her again...

I knew we'd never laugh at the sparrows in the front yard,

seek peace in a like mind,

or remember the bad-old-days like every other day...


Soon it was time for me to go,

I felt in necessary to remember the old woman dancing in the sunlight,

never nimble with feet - or hands for that matter...but she could cook with words...


No, we were clumsy together - two shoes tied together by blood...

forever bound by dumb-assery...a billboard for foolish decisions...

still she was my mother,

and we were one in the same,

one day I will forgive that trespass,

one fine day it will all make sense, you know...

from the past the tears will fall,

only to live another day.