gone again.

Say goodnight, Mother.
The child had gone to bed.
No more visions of
innocence or
delusions of your grandeur.

Say goodnight, Mother.
The lights are out and
the child is tucked in,
the blanket, a makeshift noose
around a tiny neck.

Say goodnight, Mother.
For she hears you down the hall.
The laughter from beyond
your bedroom door.
Low dulcet tones and sultry smells.

Say goodnight, Mother.
She has packed her bags.
Only a teddy and a teddy bear.
You never know what a
grown up girl will need someday.

Say goodnight, Mother.
She'll never be like you.
The bed remains unmade.
It is now yours to lie in.
The child is gone.




©2006 Cher L.V. Tushiah