Ninety
When I hug
My ninety year old mother
It is as though
I am hugging a bird:
A wiry body, as if
Those hundreds of bones
Had collapsed in
On each other,
So very frail and thin,
Yet an alert mind within.
Active and curious,
Loving football matches
On the television,
Watching with us,
Cheering goals, admonishing fouls.
Such energy,
Living for and loving
Her eight great-grandchildren.
O mother of mine
We are one.
You will never die
While I live on.
19 July 2011.
Copyright by D. J. Brennan,
Derbyshire.
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