Mother's Powder Box Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

A simple red and black
box containing face powder
tucked away in a far corner
of my dresser drawer

Someone else might be inclined
to toss it out with the trash
It has no value and takes up space
Too old to put upon a fresh face

I breathe in a porcelain fragrance
from the smooth silkened pallor
Reminding me of my dear mother…
who has journeyed beyond the stars

To me it is a precious keepsake...
While holding it in my hands I feel
A warrn sensation surrounding me…
I become a child watching my mom

Gently applying loveliness with a puff...
softly blending onto her petal soft skin
Dusting her cheeks with a blush of rouge
Lips tinged with color…kiss my forehead

11/4/09