Mum loved nothing of household chores, piles of laundry, or the regional cold
But she had a creativity that oozed from her like frosting on warm cake,
And could spark imagination from wet newspaper in September


While foreboding, bloated clouds hovered like tireless vultures
We salvaged the joys of the day in her world
Hills, birds, and trees adorned our room
Living within her countryside strokes
A brighter day, any forecast


We scouted the secret wardrobe of our minds
Coats and boundaries pushed aside
Out of the back door, we escape
Never aware, all the while
She left it ajar...
06/08/2006
Author's Note: 1st Assignment-B: this is another piece revamped for the assignmnent on childhood, 
but I can't decide which I want to have workshop'd, this or "From My Bedroom Window". 


I feel they hold similar weight for me, but for different reasons...any and all 
feedback ASAP helpful for both!

Posted on 06/08/2006
Copyright © 2025 Julie Adams

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Michelle Angelini on 06/09/06 at 05:24 AM
Julie, I love this so much. I kept reading it over, since it reminded me of some od the times my Mom and I shared when she was alive, if not similar in experience, then alike in emotion. 


~Chelle~
Posted by Christel Crews on 06/13/06 at 08:41 PM
well, i the title drew me in.. i'm obsessed with C.S. Lewis and the Chronicles.. this is an incredibly beautiful piece.. you have captured so much here, its beautiful!
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/14/06 at 03:48 AM
"We scouted the secret wardrobes of our minds" - what a cool mom you had/have!!! Such a warm childhood memory.