While Writing Poetry

by Paul Gustav Spohn

Often times by the reading light of sunshine

Through the window blinds

Sitting by my chair

My mother

Long gone

Stares at my shadow of youth

And in the fragile moment

Of death and beyond

I coax out a sigh

That once to her belonged

That she could read what I am

Writing now

In verse

Past tense

Making something of this memory

Some sense

And hoping I am

Within a beacon of her approval

That smile she always

Shared with me

While writing poetry