I went through an old book of random poetry I wrote years ago and decided to post one of them here. It’s not really based on anything and it’s sad but I still think it’s a nice little vignette. I hope you like it. It’s called:

Visiting Day

Sundays we see Pammy,

We take the commuter train,

The boys and I bring her flowers,

Daisies, always the same.

In their innocence they don’t realize

That her mind has slowly left,

To them she’s still their Mommy,

The visits leave me bereft.

This week she’s made them sun catchers,

Colored strong and bright,

They hold them in their little hands,

Up to the institutional light.

***

Last week it was bird house,

Before that origami,

Every week they proudly leave

With presents from their Mommy.

***

And every week I’m sadder,

As her mind slips further on,

I wonder if the boys can tell

How close she is to gone?

***

We go home on Sunday nights,

We take the commuter train,

The three of us missing Pammy,

Always just the same.

Please visit Tracy’s AMAZON PAGE to see all her works currently for sale.

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