by Veronica Phoenics

Behind me the wall
flowers with reflections,
recollections tear
their colour through the rigid bricks
to bear the light tracing glimpses
on the screen, and there he is,
the one, smiling widely before
the shining sea, and the other,
far in time, but over there, looking wistfully at me.
And here, my mother’s belly round
with me, holding my father’s hand in hers,
before the wearing cancer and old age,
and his worries about the always
frightening finances.

The one is married with two kids,
his son born on my birthday,
and the other,
well he took all my dreams,
traded them up for oil and diamonds.
And my father, he sits by the fire every night
poking the embers with a stick,
turning them over, like my mother
in her marble box, as I
look over all the shining splendour
of their faces on my wall
and turn my back
to watch the setting sun
and count my fleeting blessings.


Posted on 01/01/2014
Copyright © 2021 Veronica Phoenics

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 01/03/14 at 04:56 PM

Poignant reflections. Touches the heart in understanding and sympathy. And yes in gratitude.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/12/14 at 04:18 AM

Congratulations on POTD Veronica. Captivating glimpse into your family history, with snippets I'm sure we all can relate to in our own way.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/22/14 at 03:00 PM

I missed this on its POTD day, but really like this personal glimpse into your life through photos and memories. "recollections tear their colour through the rigid bricks" - this is a great line. Also - "well he took all my dreams, traded them up for oil and diamonds." The "marble box" is so elegant. Thank you for this.

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