I see a faint smiling face, flushed red and tired with droplets of sweat in every direction. I’m crying. I see a sleepy face in the dark and somehow it soothes my restlessness and lulls me back to dreaming. I see a worried face filled with concern as I’m burning up, trembling. I see a welcoming face when I come home from a long, tiresome day. I see a proud face, excited to hear stories of my travels. I see a stone with a name and two dates. I’m weeping. I see a familiar smiling face by the golden gates.


About Basil

Grey is the new blue, or so I think it is. View all posts by Basil

2 responses to “Mothers

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