My earliest world is
One of shapes and feelings
An awareness that
Everything in that little
Apartment is everything
Daddy is working late
Something called swing shift
I am eating chicken pot pie
And following her movements
With my young eyes
But she is there with me
I think she is folding
Laundry and carrying
Inside her what will
Be my little brother
She is always somewhere
Within reach
There is a cord that ties
I am for her
And she is for me
As long as she is with me
We are complete
One of shapes and feelings
An awareness that
Everything in that little
Apartment is everything
Daddy is working late
Something called swing shift
I am eating chicken pot pie
And following her movements
With my young eyes
But she is there with me
I think she is folding
Laundry and carrying
Inside her what will
Be my little brother
She is always somewhere
Within reach
There is a cord that ties
I am for her
And she is for me
As long as she is with me
We are complete
Very touching images of your mother. I especially like the specifics: "eating chicken pot pie," "folding laundry."
ReplyDeleteThank You
ReplyDeleteWe are complete.
Nice memoir of the "completeness" of childhood.
ReplyDeleteJust beautiful...
ReplyDelete(and thank you! I love your poems, too.)
"I am for her/And she is for me" So lovely, and so true.
ReplyDeleteThis transported me into a child's world.
ReplyDeletesounds like good memories.....good words
ReplyDeleteSo very tender, Erin. The pot pie is such a powerful image. For me, when pot pies were placed in the oven, that meant my parents were going out and I'd have a babysitter. I can just smell the folding of the laundry and how much that meant home. Thank you for this wonderful poem. I sure am glad it's April!
ReplyDelete