Bess
A dress that speaks of life,
The frayed edges hang like bar codes
Spelling out her past.
Bess was content.
Her flowing auburn hair a distant memory,
Now replaced by black and white,
The colours of her age.
Bess was content.
Half way down her nose her glasses sat,
With flour coated fingerprint etched lenses
Betraying this morning's cooking
Bess was still content
Soft slippers now where once heels were worn,
Her stoop a testament to such fashion
The hips a little broader now,
Bess was still content.
Here she was, all that she could be,
A wife, a mother, a nurse, a listener, a lover
But all the time that dress said more than that
Bess was still content
Then in the background voices came to life,
Such laughter only youngsters make,
The door flies open 'Mum we are home! '
Bess just smiled that smile... so content.
poem by Dave James
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
