Nov 5, 2008

A New York Night

Running fingers through my hair,
I realizing it's turning gray
and think, "So what?
Are you afraid of gray?"
I'm not even afraid of earthquakes,
though snakes still send me running.

My roof is leaking--
irritating.
So I heat up hot chocolate
scratch my dog's back
and listen to Obama
heating up the country.

Tiny slivers of light
played on a hospital wall
the night I bothered God,
Why don't you bring me home?
This is enough.

And God said no, as usual.

He'd rather I travel to NYC
six years later
with my re-born daughter.
We even sang in the subway,
ate steaming hot dogs,
late, 3 am, in the rain.

3 comments:

Megan said...

I LOVE you, Mom! You're poetry is rising beautifully from you. Keep writing, please. This one brought tears to my eyes...

Megan said...

I miss New York. It was so special for me that I feel like it's a piece of home now; because I was with you...

~b said...

I love this poem! I hope you never stop writing...it would be travesty.