Poem: “Big Picture”

In a painting I bought grandma

there stands a white and gray crane

in the middle of an orangey-brown swamp

 

Above the tree line,

white clouds arc across a blue sky

first, large, white and fluffy

then small in the distance

no more than a memory

 

I am that broken record

remembering memories in an old picture

Remembering

Wondering

how often she stood

in the middle of everything

solitary and sturdy

the mother of all cranes

 

Now all that’s left

is a painting I’d given her

Does she stand alone still?

Does her strong, regal head turn

to look down that skyline?

 

Maybe so

 

Or, she is the skyline

the water, the leaves, the trees

 

In death,

a lonely bird can transcend time

In life,

she sits and waits

 

What does it mean to fly?

 

her audience mourns her regal precession

not realizing that life

really is just one big intermission

the real show happens after

 

But I am a fool

sadness breaks

and I yearn for an encore

without the crane in the painting

the picture collapses

 

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One thought on “Poem: “Big Picture”

  1. Pingback: Happy Mother’s Day, Grandma…I Miss You | The Writer's Hub

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