Poetry Porch: Poetry


My Mother Is Younger Than Me
by Peggy Seeger

My mother is younger than me.
She died at fifty-three
With plump red cheeks and black black braids.

My hair is grey now, my cheeks are lined.
She sits at my knee, her head inclined
To accept my care.
I comb and braid her hair
As she once did mine.
And as I sing
She tells me things
About her new school.

As I grew my wings
She opened the window
And out she flew.

I am seventy three
She is fifty-three.
Strange: my mother is younger than me.

Copyright © 2009 by Peggy Seeger.