Paper memories
Tiny bits of paper,
Dreams colored and
wrapped with love,
A hut drenched in rain,
A bird too large,
The Sun's bright rays
The river, a boat,
A blue mountain.
She gives you her card,
Glued with imagination,
Painted with dreams,
Drawn with hope,
“I am busy.” you say
Absent maid,
ever-present boss,
Card discarded. Too much
For you to cope.
Tiny bits of paper
Faded colors,
Now line the walls,
Of the empty nest.
The cards are all
that’s left in time.
Time’s flown, so has she,
taken all the rest.
You dust each old card,
10 times a day,
Each forgotten moment,
Now a shadow of a wreath.
You pick up the phone,
You call, and you hear
“I am busy, Mummy”
Paper memories’ death.
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