A Place, But Not a Home


On Sunday’s I’m posting poetry written by my mother-in-law, Bettie Lou. Writing poetry was a form of therapy after losing her husband and then her youngest son in 1985.

A Place, But Not a Home

I am in limbo

            A place—

            But

Not a home.

I move the bed.

I move the chair.

I lace my pretties

            Here—and there.

A place—

            But

Not a home.

What is the difference?

            A place?

            A home?

I need to feel secure.

            Entwine me—

            Hold me—

Keep me here.

Let me know

I’m needed here.

Don’t chide me—

            Scold me—

Draw apart—

I need to heal

            A wounded heart.

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