Autographs of His Famous Friends

Her hands cupped over her face
dripped sadness like spring rain
falling from the sill where orchids bloomed beneath.
He just stood there helpless, could do nothing.
She had always been so sensitive,
He could see memories flooding her mind
into puddles where lives had grown . . .

The book just happened to open to the page, that page
she had written on forty years ago
wishing him a successful and happy life
under her autograph, words during a time
when the times were good . . .

She didn’t believe he still had her in his book of famous friends
when she put her arms around him and he said,
"I love you Ma" as he thought how she is now old and frail
and Dad needs her more than ever - that
he will not see them again -
she knew she was saying good bye . . .

When he left early in the morning the sun was shining,
she slept as mocking birds mocked each other . . .

The miles unwound beneath his wheels, a silent ache.
He saw her face in every sunrise cloud, her hand
Still curled around his childhood, warm and strong.
That name, her own, the first autograph he’d ever known,
Was not just ink on paper, but a life-long trace,
A love too deep for farewells, held in timeless space.