Mother is a Stopped Clock

Have you ever stumbled on one?

The hands at impossible positions

You try to adjust it,

but you wind up

tossing it out

though the numbers are

clear as numbers can be.

Mother’s fingers

travel over ivory

as she forgets arthritis and

picks out timeless standards.

But she’s lost. She’s outlived

her sight… her friends.

She’s got me, dependable

as a flutter. She’s got me

to answer the broken questions every day.

“Where’s my daughter?

Have you spoken to her?”

Visit Paul Lieber’s website.

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