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Mother

Mother Lisa,
When I speak with you,
I never know if you hear me, or if I am communicating.
Is it the past?
Can we not let it go?
Are we thinking about everyone else?
When we sit across the table from one another,
I remember your smile and your mercy.
You and me,
and no other distractions.
Lisa, you are my mirror.
Until the kids scream for momma,
until the husband needs the dishes done,
till Grandpa preaches religion,
till Grandma is in pain.
Till I just want to talk with you.
You work is never done.

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