"The Long Goodbye"

I reach for the phone, then pull my hand back—

forgetting, remembering,

she won’t answer me back.

Not the way she used to,

not with warmth in her voice,

not with stories and laughter,

or a mother’s sure choice.

She’s still here in body,

but her mind has slipped free,

a ghost in the daylight, drifting farther from me.

Her eyes sometimes sparkle, a flicker,

a flame, but moments later she forgets my name.

I grieve her in pieces, a slow, silent theft—each day a goodbye

to the little that’s left.

I want to call home with news she would cheer,

but home is a place that no longer lives here.

She’s not in the garden, not in her chair,

not in the words that once filled the air.

There’s no final closure, no funeral or wake,

just memories fading with each breath I take.

So, I carry her gently, where no time can sever—

in the ache of my chest, my mother forever.

Ruby Sterling - Scripted Dreams