Christmas, ’95,
I sit with Mary’s Mother
In a nursing home.
All leaves turn. Some
Before they fall. So says
The nursing home.
O Fates. When my
Time comes grant me a week
To say goodbys.
Christmas, ’95,
I sit with Mary’s Mother
In a nursing home.
All leaves turn. Some
Before they fall. So says
The nursing home.
O Fates. When my
Time comes grant me a week
To say goodbys.
Jon Robison Poetry 