Tag Archives: Sadness

My Mother

How she must have missed
the green hills of Ireland.
Walking along hard grey
streets in Brooklyn.

Remembering scent of
grassy meadows hurrying
along ten long blocks, to
climb filthy subway steps.

Missing those sweet soft pastures,
on her way home from work
buying day old bread, searching for
dented cans and items on sale.

Her marriage failed and her health
gone. Her smiling days were over.
No one seemed to care.
The unlucky are often alone.

How she must have longed
for songs around the fireplace.
Another Irish colleen torn
from that emerald island.

Late Autumn

Late autumn –
Evening twilight;
The market lane
herds of shoppers,
In front of her small hut,
she lays the
stainless steel vessels
on the mat…

She,
her hut,
her mat,
her vessels,
her hope –
Autumn ceasing
All over…

Late night –
The lane deepening into
deafening silence;
Spoon by spoon,
tiffin box by tiffin box,
plate by plate,
she carefully places them
inside the jute sack
knowing tomorrow will
dawn again.