On a Mocking Bird Day…

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ann johnson-murphree

Spring, bright and fresh, birds sing as a cool

morning breeze floats through magnolia trees,

thoughts of long ago day’s surface into the now.

A gracious woman of the South rises from past

memories into the present, ice eyes, cheeks a

natural rose-colored, speaking with the sound

of dripping honey.

She leans toward a honeysuckle vine dreaming of

what was and what will never be, her chained heart

tugs at the sealed door.

A mocking bird sits and sings deep within the lilac

bush, as she dips her fingers slowly in a pebbly brook,

her reality; life passed her by, and the depths of her

sorrow never known.

Nevertheless, in her place of selfishness she never

denied her hate for the child she brought into her

unwanted world, does she deserve the name “mother”.


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About Mavadelo

Dutch, Pothead, Married since 1999, once homeless officially homed since uh...I guess somewhere around 2006. Music lover (anything but techno) Animal friend (in general, dogs and cats more specific, wolves rule though), Happy (most of the time) Pacifist, optimist but also sarcastic, cynical and philosopher (big word, if I find a better one....) oh... Gamer, PC freak, Software junky, bottom level hacker (lol i can "hack" some of my games but t.b.h others did the work, I just apply their knowledge) all around "can you fix my pc Martin" guy did I mentioned married?

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