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9.1
/10
(25
votes)
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Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
You couldn't just drop in. You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.
He couldn't risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he'd hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she'd just popped out to get the tea.
I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven't both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there's your name
and the disconnected number I still call.
Submitted by Scott Dagostino
Tony Harrison
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Read poems about / on: shopping, grief, believe, mother, water, alone, death, time, life
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Comments about this poem (Long Distance II
by
Tony Harrison
) |
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comments about this poem (Long Distance II by
Tony Harrison
)
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Kelly Kel
(2/11/2009 12:44:00 PM) |
Beautiful. The ones we lose live on in our hearts ans mind.
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Charles M Moore
(3/14/2006 7:42:00 PM) |
Beautifuly written Tony, with great warmth and affection.Charlie.
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David Bedford
(1/16/2006 10:48:00 AM) |
My brother died 3 years ago, and his wife, my sister-in-law, has been distraught. She has maintained his voice message on their telephone still, which has caused comment among the rest of the family and people who telephone her. This moving poem for the first time made me understand her desperate feelings of bereavement, and how she is clinging on.
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Tony Harrison
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