Motley Masterpiece

Hello again😊💓 

Due to this year's vacation being much quieter than any before,

(due to adult children with other commitments)

 let's get the sentimental tribute out of the way first, okay?

💝💖

I murmured the first line of this poem as we arrived at our cottage last Saturday,

 before/in spite of a much needed and appreciated week of R&R!

Many a pleasant hour can pass flawlessly here

while reminiscing, dreaming and simply enjoying the views/hues...

To every thing there is a season, 

 a time to every purpose under the heaven: Eccles.3:1

There is a hollow in her heart where children used to be

A sacred sense of loss amidst life’s generosity

The tender impact of love’s Once Upon What Disappears

Strikes Something in Her bosom that only a mother hears

Where edges, smoothed by ebb and flow of time’s finessing touch

Perfects a wake of letting go, echo-keepsakes, and such

There is a blade that carves a niche impossible to find

Sun-sparkles siphoned from a splash of seasons left behind

Amass, to meld, with measure of moments-to-memories

A panoramic treasure that only a mother sees

Of happiness soft-startled by the bittersweet divide

Twixt tempests snuffed by nightfall and today’s swift-ebbing tide

There is a hunger that poetic font cannot appease

A heart-shaped hollow of frames filled with fondest memories

Where twilight claims its dauntless prey as moment-sums compose

A Masterpiece of Yesterday only a mother knows

Of what time cannot reimburse and yet cannot estrange

In the clash twixt heaven and earth beneath the hand of change

There is a hollow in her heart too darling to portray

A sweet and sentimental smart where children used to play

While time will weave its winnowing into felled thoroughfares

To leave beneath her skin Something only a mother bears

Where, somehow past’s increase endears an echo-escapade

A motley masterpiece of years that she would never trade

© Janet Martin