Ruth warren

Rookie (5/4/1973 / LONDON)

The Visit - Poem by Ruth warren

I opened up the door, to a room at
the nursing home;
it was dark and quiet inside, for
my Mother liked being alone.

I tip-toed ever so quietly, to the
bed where my Mother layed;
I whispered, 'Mom, I've missed you and
thought I'd come, to visit with you
today'.

In her usual stone-cold voice she
asked, 'Why are you even here;
it seems I just can't get rid
of you, though I've tried for many
years'.

'Now Mother', I tried to joke with
her, 'you know that you're glad to see;
this thorn in your' side, this pain in
your' neck, this daughter full of
failousies'.

I should have known better by now, then
to joke with this woman in the bed;
for all of my life, we rarely spoke,
though so much was always said.

I sat down in a chair beside her,
and looked into her eyes;
they were full of anger and hostility,
directed at me, I surmised.

I must have been there for over an hour,
yet not one word did she say to me;
she just stared with contempt at her
youngest daughter, who was staring back
at her lonely Mommy.

I finally said, 'Well Mom, I have
things I need to do;
but I'll be back as soon as I can, to
spend some time with you'.

I leaned over her bed to give her a
kiss, and she pulled away from me;
I thought, 'She'll never show me any
love or affection, for some things were
never meant to be'.

But I kissed her anyway, and I hugged
this stranger that I knew;
I whispered in her ear, 'I love you,
and her response was, 'Right back at
you'.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 26, 2006



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