Lost Sanctuary

Just now, God knows why,
I remembered my long dead mother’s
telephone number.

This odd recollection
gave cold relaxation
to my tired snap mood.

The warm welcome
she offered me,
the assurance of food,

the spare bed,
the familiar disagreements,
they were always available.

Now, this sanctuary,
this feel of childhood argument,
this place of reconciliation,

is past.

This poem was published by First Time.

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