mother love

they miss
their mother. her baked
bread,
her cookies,
her gifts wrapped.

her warm soups and stew.
how nice of her to
send a sweet card
picked especially for them.

they miss
a kiss
upon the forehead,
to be tucked in,
a pat upon the back, her
voice, her hugs.

how they send her letters
and pictures
of where they've been,
postcards of their travels
whether by land
or sea.

i'll call you tomorrow
if you can get free.

they want her to know
when they hurt
or get sick or feel
sad,
or have come unglued.

they want her to know
when
they feel alone,
alone and blue.

it's almost as if
they have no one else
to turn to.

hardly a day goes by
without reminding her
of what's happened
in the past,
what's new.

they miss their mother.