In Gratitude Of The Last Piece
the years have passed,
memories of my mother
are spread across the floor
like colorful pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
i have put them together a thousand times,
each time creating a different picture
and each time ending with one piece missing.
i’ve scoured the corners of the house
hoping beyond measure for sight
of that single and most pertinent piece,
the one shining slice of truth
that would complete
my tapestry of unresolved mystery.
on occasion, i was certain i saw it, but,
as before, it was only a vapid dust bunny.
i have long since surrendered.
i expect i will find it on my way home.
how perfect that she would save the last piece
ensuring my safe return into her arms.