For a different mother, ’cause I would one.
Oh, I passed up my turn so long ago
I would hardly know to take it.
But Id learn, Millie.
I would learn!”
It hung there in the closet
Where she was dying, Mother’s red dress,
Like a gash in the row
Of dark, old clothes
She had worn away her life in.
Her last words to me were these:
”Do me the honor, Millie,
Of not following in my footsteps.
Promise me that.”
I promised.
She caught her breath
Then Mother took her turn
In death.
~ Carol Lynn Pearson ~
