Sandra LampeMartin Poems

Mama can you fix my hair for the dance?
Mama can you hem my dress if you get a chance?
Mama do you think I'm pretty or nice?
Mama do you think a boy will look at me twice?
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Brave passion whose fire
is quenched by another’s reason.
The journey to the light of love
is consumed with agendas.
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A shovel strikes a mound of dirt
Earth sifts into the void.
A gray box lies still within
Tears rush unchecked, emptiness.
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He’s in trouble more than most
Of confusion he’s a constant host
Though he means well to all
He seems to need to trip and fall
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There is a thread of celestial design
Cast into the hands of man
Ill used, stretched, frayed to its fiber
It remains unbroken, woven
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Long ago in the mists of time
From high above this mortal climb
Wee dimples by Mother Nature sent
On a journey, into the world they went
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He was a baby just yesterday
In diapers soft and small
Blonde and sturdy baby boy
He ruled his tiny world
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Man proceeds through streets unclean
To beds built of material most mean.
They have no tears to shed
Over such a lowly moldering bed.
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Who are you? Father?
Old, Older than it's possible to be.
How did you get so old, ancient?
Yesterday:
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