I Brought My Mother The Walking Aid. Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

I Brought My Mother The Walking Aid.



I brought my mother the walking aid.

I saw the dusk upon her face.

Why mother? asked I
Is it not good for you?
I paid for it myself to
see you rise from bed.

She replied not; alas I turned
away from her flushed ashen
face.

And night had come and deepened.

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