Big Room, 1948, by Andrew Wyeth
It was the Sunday room
‘cept Sunday never really came;
one loveless day blurred into the next...
It was the drawing room,
guests entertained by perfect hosts…
Bottom nanny tapped
“Go in! Go in,
my little precious one,
(Mummy what I want most of all
is to be your friend...)
…and I’d go in
hating the feigned affection,
affected for the sake of others,
held close to your chest
I’d feel your bitter cold
as you muttered
empty loving words in longing ears,
mixed messages of frigid mother love.
(Mummy what I want most is to be your friend…)
Life ends, nothing left of you
but dust and bitter memories.
The room draws me in
and I see you there
hiding in the gloom and shadows
gazing at my photo on the mantel
and I finally understand,
how can those
who have not known love give love,
you reach out for me
from beyond the living
and I feel the warmth within your hand.
With thanks to Tess at The Mag for this weeks prompt.