Repeating Unspoken Words

 

Repeating Unspoken Words

for mom.

They are in the tiny, hand-made,

A-line dress with tangerine-colored strings

that tied at the back of my sun-burned neck.

Each stitch of the red, embroidered

flower on the front pocket

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the, now tarnished, Gemeinhardt flute

which often sat with me in the last chair.

Each payment of $23.00 earned at

her job at Judson Road Growers

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the Christmas tree cake needed for

biology class, remembered...almost too late.

That last bit of colored, home-made frosting,

squeezed out at two in the morning,

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the tears which fell from

the bottom of those really thick

blue glasses as I climbed into Daddy's

truck at 4 a.m. and headed toward downtown.

Each wipe of kleenex at her eyes

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in Claude, the dog. His soft white fur,

dark black ears, and pink bow are a comfort

to me as he lies beside me each night.

Each gruffly spoken word that boxing day

(Here you go. He is for you)

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the two, maybe even three blankets

that she wrapped around me when she

found me asleep on the upstairs couch.

Each word of comfort, whispered softly

as I lie there nearing dreamland

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the hour-long phone calls...

which, now, always end with

spoken words of love.

But she doesn't need to speak them.

...not really.

because I still hear her voice

repeating unspoken words of love.