My mother reminds me
of a magpie when she talks now.
Her words come quicker
since the stroke.
There’s more excitement in them.
More urgency.
As if each sentence
has a life of its own.
Like a child
trying to make you see
what she sees
before time’s up.
Each word quickly strung
like bright beads on a string.
Sometimes I strain hard
to understand.
Sometimes I just smile.



About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard.
This entry was posted in family, human interest, humor, love, mother, poetry, psychology, relationships, senior citizens, spirituality, women. Bookmark the permalink.

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