Closet door opens
New day begins
Neat row of jackets
awaits the pick of the day.

Mom’s clothing hangs before
me, mixed among my own.
The smell of Downy dryer fluff,
hers, not mine comingling
all pick up the smell.

Slipping my arm into
the sleeve of her jacket
memories flood my mind.

Red, yellow, blue, green
from her painted canvas
to the inner closet
a life of color inspires me.

The smell, color and feel
adorning my body this day
reminds me her body may have
died but she never fades away.

One thought on “Mother by Mary Perrin Scott

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