You were my first love
besides my own mother
Gone when I was thirteen
On May Day, your day
favorite of the whole year.
Your smiling face and the
Warble in your gentle voice
Still ring in my memory.
Those thick glasses
With seemingly brittle wire
frames.
My little hand in yours.
Flowers in the many beds of
your garden,
Silver dollar plants and
orange lanterns
Beside and on the front
porch.
Morning Glories climbing the
twine and up the back
Of the house, below your
kitchen window
Drenched in sunlight.
Violets in the dining room
Fragrance and beautiful
color and form
An April violet created for
me.
The sights and smells of
your small enameled kitchen
The flour sifter and kitchen
scale
From your father’s bakery on
the cabinet
Encrusted with decades of
flour and love
Cookies made for family and
shut-ins.
The Cookie Lady article
yellowed and on the wall
Below the kitchen clock
How proud I was to hear the
story
How happy I was to taste the
confections myself
Especially at Christmas-time
Saturday night beans and
brown bread
At the dining room table
Formal but familial
Staying over with you and
Grampa
Sharing Ritz and milk
The wonder of my father’s
room
As you showed me the pulley
system
He created over his bed
To turn on and off the light
suspended from the
Ceiling in the middle of the
room.
Bellows by the fireplace
our family still has
The thick carpet on the
stairs
The landings for the toy
soldiers
And other creatures we
played with
The mystery of the second
floor porch and the stairs
To the attic above
The clawed feet of the
bathtub
The family pictures on your
bureau
The warmth of your love.
How proud I was to be one of
your pallbearers
The first and greatest loved
one I ever lost.
Back ramrod straight as I
sat in my chair
Waiting for the cue to walk
beside you one last time
Hearing the loving words
from the pulpit
From your minister, your
friend.
A moment of peace, of
knowing you were loved
And you were with the Lord
already.
How I hated Him for taking
you
how I cursed God for this
So mad to lose you just as I
wanted to know you more
Just as I could have been
more
Clumsily, finding my way
without you still
in a darker world.
I wished we could have
talked about the desk,
Your father’s desk that you
gave me
Did you know about the
history of this gift?
That it was from that ship?
Did you know why he had it?
I wish I knew more.
Cookie Lady I miss you.
Edited November 30, 2013
“Jessie – v3”
(editing original again)
May 12, 2013
Edited for Mother’s Day worship service
“Jessie – v2”
written 5/2/2001, posted to blog 2/12/2004
“Jessie”
&
Pastor Ruth Foss
sermon blog
meditation blog
Suncook, NH
May 12, 2013
Mother’s Day
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poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me
at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 26,770+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
