Guilt
On a sullen Dutch summer day,
With no hint of sun or rain,
When even the trees refuse to sway,
I search for hope, but in vain.I hear her voice across many a mile,
Faint against the torrential pour,
And the cough that hides behind the smile,
Wishing I was there, and nothing more.When my head was spinning and very hot,
She had picked me up and held me close;
Even though I was numb and but a tot,
That memory, I cherish like a golden rose.When the world had all but fallen apart,
When even breathing was just a drain,
She had smiled, straight from her heart
And I knew then, all would be well again.Yet, I sit here, worthless, in a faraway land,
What is it that keeps me here, I wonder;
When all I want is to hug her and hold her hand,
What could be worth keeping me and her asunder?
Could I go home, just to make a cup of herbal tea,
So she could watch the rain, with me at her side?
To answer without a phone, when she calls for me,
Just to be there, to hold her through every stride?I stare out from my window at the sultry summer sky,
And wish I could be home, by any wild wonderful way,
Perhaps a pair of wings that would let me soar and fly;
Yet all that stares back is a dark dismal dreary day.
Get well soon, my mother dear.
