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 Contemporary poetry by Dan Donlan

GOLDENLOCKS

By Dan Donlan, www.PoetryPoem.com/dandy1    Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime

The poem I wrote shortly after my return to Mom

In Memoriam my Mother
Fern Erma Bisyak
Died two days after her 56th birthday

Thousands of Stars paint the skies;
Mere brushes for the moon above,
Beauty is found in an Angel's eyes
Never dimming is the passion of Eternal love

God saith: "Forget her as love unbourne!"
For in your unmirrored heart lies a fool.
This Especial Star for whom you mourne
Has fallen from the skies in dazzling hue

For to thy Earth I take leaving glowing flame
I leave behind other to take her space
Thine eyes, thye motion to hear thy name
Forever is the void noone can replace

The rest of the story beginning in comment section.
The vision of white lights, heaven and return


Goldenlocks was five. A Shirley Temple look a like only blondie curly locks.
She sat on my lap as Mom and her adopted Sister visited. I read her and my
younger sister stories. Some that I made up. An hour or so we heard arguing
in the next room. My Father was drinking again. We were told to leave and never
come back. Both Mom and her Sister were crying. Goldenlocks was crying and said,
"Dandy when I grow up I am going to marry you." We did visit Knox Berry farm but
the good father was gone. He was beating up on Mom and I asked him to try a man
for a change. I woke up in the Hospital. Mom finally divorced my Father. I
suppose he went to jail. Months later Mom was at the mailbox. She had tears in
her eyes. She said, "Punky--you see that was my real nickname, the little girl
you called Goldenlocks. That was not her real hair. She was dying of luekemia.
Her Mom just ended her letter telling me with this Goldenlocks last words, "Tell
Punky I well see him in Heaven." So you see my trip through the white light years
later came to life for me. I had long forgetten Goldenlocks.

We were years later with family taking them to see the famous Lombard street. I
had forgotten where that house was but going up the hill I felt an Angel on my
shoulder and it all came to me. Goldenlocks was the little girl I could not figure
out when Mom was calling me to join her. The Little black boy Angel wass my friend
Bobby who had drowned in a swimming accident. Do I believe there is Life After Death
and a white light. Whole hardedly,Do I doubt people talking to the dead making money
from doing it as a living. I'd have to be there. I only saw the Littiest Angel one
time for maybe an hour sixty years ago. I well never forget my Goldenlocks./dandy







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