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.