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Mother, Mother
Folder:
reworked vintage
mother, mother (reboot)
Mother, Mother — are you crying? Come look: the roses are dying… their petals curl like ash, copper-scented decay clinging to each stem.
Behind your door, a distant sigh stirs the silence between these walls.
Mother, Mother — I am hungry. Come see the dishes clinking, plates piled high in pale morning light; the sour tang of stew gone rancid lingering like a stubborn memory.
Mother, Mother — I am lonely. Come close: my chest caves inward, the lock of my heart cracks open, ribs clicking in the silence— your voice the missing note.
Oh, mother — are you sleeping? Come and run (Let’s play in the sun once more.) .
(rhymed version)
Mother, Mother — are you crying?
Come look: the roses are dying…
their petals curl like ash,
clinging tight in autumn’s sash.
Behind your door, a secret sigh
stirs the stillness, bends these walls awry.
Mother, Mother — I am hungry.
Come see the dishes clinking,
plates piled high in pale morning light;
the sour tang of stew gone rancid,
a hungry bite so far from sight.
Mother, Mother — I am lonely.
Come close: my chest caves inward,
lock of my heart splintered and sundered;
ribs clicking in the hush unspoken—
your voice the missing token.
Oh, mother —
are you sleeping?
Come and run
to chase the golden sun.
.
