From gate to Gate

From gate to Gate




Of Mommy and Child, oh the times divine,
Short though they were, they were God’s sweet lifeline,
Held tightly at times with this heart of mine,
To cherish each moment, sweet times benign . . .



When you left, I had to plant my garden lush,
With flowers that would stand in a straight line—
Otherwise, my worried mind would not hush . . .
The flowers . . . would obey . . . their bound’ry line.




The days drug on that you were not yet home;
51 days on the streets you would roam,
And then you called—you wanted to come home;
I rushed to get you, praying for shalom . . .



Before you left that day, we’d asked you t’ stay—
I took what was t’ be my last look at you;
We hugged so tight, and yet … you pulled away;
You were nineteen; what else could Mommy do …?




You ran down the steps and out of our gate,

And I

won’t get to see you

till




Heav’n’s Gate . . .

Painting: The Garden at Pontoise by Camille Pissarro, 1877

Poetry prompts line, look, lush from
http://simplysnickers.blogspot.com/2009/07/poetry-prompt-through-sunday-july-12.html


Written 7/5/09 – From gate to Gate – Angie Bennett Prince