David Young
David Young Poems
I see her doing something simple, paying bills,
or leafing through a magazine or book,
and wish that I could say, and she could hear,
...
It's summer, 1956, in Maine, a camp resort
on Belgrade Lakes, and I am cleaning fish,
part of my job, along with luggage, firewood,
Sunday ice cream, waking everyone
...
The Best Poem Of David Young
Mother's Day
I see her doing something simple, paying bills,
or leafing through a magazine or book,
and wish that I could say, and she could hear,
that now I start to understand her love
for all of us, the fullness of it.
It burns there in the past, beyond my reach,
a modest lamp.
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4/16/2024 3:44:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
