Elegy To My Mother Poem by Ferdinand L Quintos

I used to ride airplanes before,
between take-off and touchdown,
fear of falling gnawed at my heart
like a kitten abandoned by its mother;

then I learned something to amuse myself
while the plane was whining across the sky,

I looked at the billowing clouds like soapsuds
frothing high on an over-sized laundry basin
and imagined my mother doing laundry on the other side,
lo, while craning my neck looking here and there,
my reverie would be cut by the stewardess's voice,
'Ladies and gentlemen, we are now about to land...'

I have not ridden for a long long time now,
but I still pause and look up the wide skies,

but I no longer look to imagine clouds as soap suds,
but beyond them where I think God's mansions are,
where I imagine my dear mother has I hope gone,
and pray to God to grant her soul eternal rest.