Guardian mamma
John Clare Stokes
She was lately into memory
things such as the beginning years
of hopscotch, books and butterflies
sharp and clear with mamma near
all was well as long as she dreamed
but in the realm she found herself in
she had to shuffle down the hallway
three times daily painfully
to the strangers being served
non homemade by mamma food
and even before she could open
the unfamiliar door
her guardian mamma would gently say,
“now dear, aren’t we forgetting
something?”
and she’d thank mamma and
together they’d set out
for the dining room.
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