My Mother’s Eyes

When I look at myself in the mirror,
I see my Mother’s brown eyes staring back,
Knowing Death would be her last visitor.
I close my eyes, sad, my emotions crack.

I want to remember eyes with expression,
Not lifeless eyes devoid of sensory.
I offer no plausible explanation,
This sight forever haunts my memory.

In my eyes, our brown eyes are one.
She is dead, but lives in my mirror.
I long to see her, but Death won.
Each morning two pair of eyes appear.

Lynn Martin McHale 6/1/13 Copyright All Rights Reserved

Note:  I spent my last time with my Mother four days before she died.  She was in hospice.  Her eyes looking back at me from her bed are permanently etched in my memory.

Lynn  Martin McHale   6/1/13   Copyright   All Rights Reserved