There’s a hushed quality to my life.
A catch in the voice, the radio low.
Logging on before dawn,
tap, tapping things out.

The ghost gums sway
as if danced by the wind.
Nor’easters blow more and more these days.
The birdsong choir a nervous shout.

The shopping mall is preoccupied.
Kids cry on like cathedral bells,
innocence peeled...
but we’re not devout.

your poem also touched me
though I loved my mom
we were never too close,

so I too left at 15
then returned with a blessing,
as all her favourite ones
had ditched,
I alone was left
beside

Since then I have composed
moms’ poems
for so many
an irreplaceable being
not a thing…

moms live forever
in hearts of all
not necessarily to be
a mommy’s child may be
but love of moms is eternal
truly we all miss them
till our own life's end

performing rhythmic, circled dance each night
respective diamonds all contribute spark
and shine there, each displaying perfect light
within the deep obscurity of dark

while splendour up above, my eyes behold
nocturnal intuition calms the air
wafts softly and I, somehow, am consoled
the glow that lived in eyes abides yet somewhere

when comes the day, they seem to disappear
as potent rays of reason slowly creep
but even so I find I hold no fear
they’ll all return when Sol’s, again, asleep

Secreted in a padded cell
Inside silently yells
his secrets he won't tell
there goes the medicine bell

She walks filled with nerves
at every sound she swerves
her bravery he deserves
his medicine she serves

As usual he's at the hatch waiting
his demeanour she's contemplating
the system she's hating
no help for him grating

They only want to keep him quiet
so they can sleep well at night
they don't want to hear his plight
or what makes him such a sorry sight