A phonecall. A faraway voice, but not. A five minute drive, I know. <br />I hear my mother telling me she is going out Mother's Day <br /> <br />I won't be home and don't bother sending roses, she tells me <br />The sky before a storm. Flowers blooming and the sky profusely clouded <br /> <br />A phone mother, I call her. an ATM machine, a check-out counter, <br />a voice by a fast food box, a recorded message, a random thought <br /> <br />I am here and I am the daugher in a poem. A few words and I can <br />step away from what I write. I can erase the last line of a composition. <br /> <br />I can walk with my imagination, fly to a new destination in my mind, <br />pretend I am dining with the mother of all mothers on her day, <br /> <br />but I cannot remove the word mother from my heart.<br /><br />Louise Marie DelSanto<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mothers-day-phone-mother/
