Roberta

Today commemorates the second anniversary of Emma’s death and transition. My friend Robert wrote and presented me this poignant poem today. I could not but publish it here. Thank you, Robert. I have named my mother Emma for the purposes of this blog and publishing my two books on dementia. But to maintain the integrity of the rhythm and flow of Robert’s poem, I have kept her real name.

Roberta

On a bright green and chartreuse day
My Friend Roberta has flown away;
Released into the light,
How, I know she enjoys the flight.

Lips of red
Attire too
Out of bed
To party do.

It makes me smile
To have, Roberta, known;
She has made the while
Not spent alone.

Her humor doth make me laugh
A privilege, an honor
To spy her path.

A woodpecker with a red top notch
Pecks on this house
Where I write and watch.

I smile again
To remember when
Roberta pinned
Her grace to them.

–- Robert Pennington Price

 

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