Mammy’s Fever. Promote Yourself


So very beautiful. Written from the heart and soul of the poet.

poetreecreations.wordpress.com

cat

Her small hands lift the cool, white sheets


their pastried skin,

glazed

opalescent

Beneath folding, looping veins

bones of steel.

. . . .

Fingers

thoughtful fingers

tapping lightly in little rhythms

begin gathering the cool sheets for rehearsal.

. . . .

Moving through time

they trace

the patterns of the life they now describe

. . . .

Outside the window,

the cat

that was never there

vanishes;

Mammy  dreams

.

in her hospital bed,

.

making pleats.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo, professional cellist/pianist from Pennsylvania; amateur poet/essayist.

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