Mama Mia...... Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is a way to forget
pain, heal the wounds and move
on with your life,

mother had taught us to whistle,
and then she never ceases to clean
the house, cook the food, wash the
laundry, and feed the cats and dogs,
and chickens too, and yes, all those
fat pigs in their pigsty

when papa arrives, all is well in the
house, and in silence, she accepts
everything as though telling us all,
all is well that ends well, and so
let us begin saying our own prayers.