The Age She Stays

by The Quiet Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

Each birthday I grow older. My mother stays sixty-two, laughing in the last photograph beside a crooked cake. Soon I will reach her. Then pass. I do not know what to call the year a child becomes older than the parent, only that time keeps moving and love declines to follow.
51 words · 11 lines · Free Verse
motheragedeathparadoximagerypersonificationfree-verse

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