Tonight's Poet Corner: Mother, May I?

Mother, May I?
by Belinda Roddie

Mother wore cerulean silk
today. She sat by the marina
where sailboats bounced about
the folds of her sleeves.
An old optometrist stumbled into her
because he had lost his glasses
(funny story, really), and after
sweating apologies through his skin,
he asked her if she'd like a coffee.

But Mother didn't move
from her soggy perch.
The golden brooch nestled
between her two mountains
swarmed with honeybees
molding sweet comb.
The tails of her coat drifted
as far as the battered bridge
where Father's fog
stubbornly sat.