It's Still Life

Her Dotage

some memories
like air
you can’t hold on to them
some remain
as lucid as the scent of
newly mown grass

I grew foxgloves last year
and when they bloomed
I could hear Dad’s voice –

Find me foxgloves, and I’ll show you blackberries.

Mum wanted a magnolia
said it reminded her of
her father’s accent –

Straight off the Florida panhandle, she said.

my grandson says I’m old
my husband calls it my dotage.

I won’t soon forget that.

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written for Firebloom Wordgarden and Poetic Bloomings. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney