A poem about a mother's love, loss and the resulting pain. It is not about anyone in particular. I did not make my intended meaning to the poem obvious, and each person that read it interpreted it in their own way. Just wondering what you all think of it?


Through the cracked glass door he watches his mother as she clutches a picture frame. Her sons………….. stare at her from wrinkled paper.

She takes the picture from the frame and presses it to her chest, rocking it like she did when they were young............ “Sleep my babies, sleep,” she whispers, pulling them closer to her heart. He watches her smile as she caresses their faces tracing a circle around each.

She used to smile at him like that. It quickly fades as she remembers that she is touching paper, not flesh.

He silently kneels in front of her and hopes that her glazed eyes will see the man he has grown to be.

She lowers the picture and places it in the frame as a tear dampens it. She closes the back of the frame on the boys who left her behind.

For a second she seems to see him. Her hand lifts….........… he thinks she may touch him like she did his brothers. He feels joy until he sees that her eyes are hollow.

Her hand drops. He misses her. He knows he must leave, do what he must so that she will see him again.