PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Bethy laments over how long it has been since we've seen each other. I laugh into the phone, tell her she wouldn't even recognize me. Hell I barely recognize myself when I look in a mirror - maiden through mother to crone while I wasn't paying attention. For a split second I see my mother's face staring back at me, then she's gone. I become angry, obviously I've touched a nerve that has not yet been healed. Why? She was who she was and I loved her. When I think about it now, though I knew her for more than half a century, I still doubt that the feeling was mutual.