My mother used to sing along with the radio, then serenade a few of us now and then. It broke my heart that she sang for everyone else but me. She said my 'hard stare' freaked her out.
How else can a person who lip-reads 'hear'?
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Mother sang to my Father
the sweetest words … with glee,
of loving him infinity.
I wished, heart and soul,
that she’d love me so.

Mother sang to my sisters
whisperingly … words of gold.
How cherished! My sisters glowed.
Blowing out candles, I wished
to be sang to … sweet and rich.

Mother sang to my brother—
how he was like no other;
sang to her father, mother.
I don’t think it e’er occurred
to her that I ‘saw’ each word.

As she lay abed … dying,
I sat beside her – crying.
For her song … was still sighing.
In my heart, I heard her voice.

“You were never my last choice
though I set you off, apart,
as you have a tender heart
to harden … which is my ‘art’.”

I loosed cascades for Mother.

“Love’s strength would have been better.”