My Mother Sits Out on the Couch

Creatively minded poem that demonstrates a sorrowful evening.

My Mother Sits Out on the Couch ~

 

 

Why do mothers lay,

Out, for us all,

To see as they,

Throw out their,

Arms and legs,

For us all to study?

 

Truly she’s a,

Beauty,

But, at certain times,

I would be inclined towards,

Ego-bashing.

 

How can my mother find,

Peace when she,

Spreads herself like a,

Butterfly,

For,

Is there no modesty here?

 

Even butterflies have them.

 

When I walk through,

The hallway this,

Unashamed butterfly,

Flaunts its toes at me-

 

I can never seem to escape!

The bug out of her cocoon,

Her blankets falling,

Around its form haphazardly.

 

Mother, I’m trying . . .

But you do look a sight.