How Are You This Morning? Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

Years after I left home and married
My father suddenly died and was buried…
From that time on I made a conscious choice
To make morning calls to hear my mother’s voice

'Good morning, how are you? ' began the conversation
Knowing all was well gave us reassuring confirmation
The chatting was simply ordinary yet highly prized
With the words 'I love you, ' despair was neutralized

Always at the same time; guaranteeing a sunny day
A comfort connection was made with words relayed
The routine was automatic and necessary to begin
Each day with a spark that continued to glow within

As the years whittled away, the inevitable day loomed
Death refused to be put on hold and boldly consumed
Life was silenced as the plug was pulled from the wall
Remaining is the impulse to pick up the phone and call