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Edit Poem
Editing Instructions
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Letters
For my husbands mother, back East....
A tiny widow lives alone; in the basement of her home
Whose wrinkled hands no longer knit; or make the quilts she gave as gifts.
I tried to make it better; so I wrote a letter.
Poems and photos, daily tales; She cant write; her hands too frail.
Its a one-way conversation. Sent without an invitation!
To say wed not forget her, I kept on writing letters.
She shares them now with family; Rereads them often they tell me.
There is nothing we can get her; she enjoys receiving better.
Such a simple thing to do. Who will do the same for you?
To break the sound of silence falling; to answer when there is no calling;
Words connect us all together; walking toward the brink of never.
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