When year’s end
Of mother-death
Waxes nothingness,
It repletes a memory shred.

When year’s come
Of mother’s death
Wanes emptiness,
It defeats any memory shed.

As years curse,
Mother-life
Dies futureness,
It ensconses a memory bled.

As years fear,
Mother-death
Lives wantonness,
It is a memory bred.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 2/4/08