It's Still Life

HER SHADOWS

His mother leaned over
to give him a kiss, her lips
the colour of ruby jewellery.
He ducked, luckily missed
her red smear across his face.
She had this marvellous way

of leaving a room. Her intense
summer perfume hanging
pregnant and pretty in the air.
Fading like a photo. A shiver.
And he remembers two men
wearing tang-colour uniforms,

they carried his pale mother
to an ambulance. Her arm
slipping away from the blanket,
a lace handkerchief tucked
neatly under her sleeve. It was
such an odd and peculiar day.

Written for Shay’s Wordgarden. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney