Just People

Written for:  Poetic Asides #499 – Write a parent poem.

We thought they knew
everything, that they were
perfect. Deflecting from
our in-the-line always
coloring of our parents,
was the sight of Mom crying.
Out of bounds. Foul ball.
I recall a sick feeling
of anxiety and fear.
Seeing Dad cry was far worse;
never thought men cried
in those days. After these
incidents, life went on.
My parents worked, paid bills,
took care of us, and laughed.
Once I argued with Mom,
elaborating on how she had
failed as a parent. The only thing
she said to me was, “We did
the best we could.” And they did.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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