This door I walk through every week
It is her petite figure I seek
Sleeping in a brown broda chair
Wrinkly forehead under gray hair
I say, “Hello, mom, how are you?”
She says, “Who are you?”
I tell her my name is Mary
but she seems a bit wary
It goes back and forth most days
This unknowing haze
Am I sister or daughter?
Is it March or October?
This door leads to Pauline
The Energizer Bunny machine
Still going at ninety-eight
Eating most everything on her plate
She asks repeatedly to go home
And who will her chauffeur be?
Much like a Quatrain poem
This stanza is her standing plea
I hold her hand, we talk
More like she dozes, I talk
I don’t always know what to say
To keep silence at bay
This door is the entrance to the past
Where Pauline’s future was cast
Her mind a cloud of dust
In others she must trust
So, what does tomorrow bring?
Her daughter keeps wondering
Will mom know where she resides
Or wonder if there’s snow outside?
This door opens to the sun
Where her memories continue to run
Of Milwaukee family long ago
That she’ll meet when she finally goes home
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is the door that opens to author Linda G. Hill. Every Friday, Linda provides her followers with a prompt. It can be a word or words and sometimes bonus points are involved (my favorite). Linda asks us to write without editing, other than correcting spelling errors.
Just go with the flow.
Like a babbling brook, ambling stream or running river. Click HERE if this type of writing floats your boat or helps with your decision-making.