Tuesday, February 19, 2013

The Lines

On the day I was born
My mother defied the doctors
refusing sleep
instead cherishing the pain
that brought me.

On the day I was born
my father took photos
beautiful silver prints
Then left to
celebrate alone.

That day the lines were drawn.
I was hers.
The bottle was his.

(written in response to a poetry prompt on G+)

1 comment:

  1. This is incisive and clear--two things I love in a poem. You tell a larger story in few words. Well done.