I always hoped for short,
long ago... gave up on sweet,
I was hoping that some morning,
with a smile on her face,
- - - I'd find her gone.
That doesn't seem to be,
as the mini - strokes,
become more frequent,
I tell her... and I tell her,
...and she refuses to believe me.
She's the mother, don't you know,
she always knew that it was best,
the baby never understood,
the rest is what she said.
There's just so much that you can do,
short of throwing her in chains,
... it never works for any of us,
when it comes to beating age.
I think the best that one can hope for,
is to make the last few years,
the kind you would want for yourself,
... the happiest and best,
... compared to all the rest,
... easy flowing flight,
somehow, right back to the nest.
Now, there is no going back,
on your own forever more,
everything that once was there,
is not there anymore.
Gave up on sweet, so long ago,
... and still I find her gone,
I smile for a different reason,
because I tried to make the last years of her life,
... her very best ones!
Barry Van Allen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-son/
