Each morning it begins all over
you said, like caring for a child.
The mediocrity of feeding, bathing,
can drab a life, or earn the famous
hanger of routine, the comfort
of knowing what to expect each day.
In your purple world, this labyrinth
with its sieved light, stray ease
tools the mind, the heart to move on.
I think of you and your patience,
your cheeriness, your masterful
solutions without a trace of bitterness,
and I wish we had seized more days
to roam the town, stop for lunch
with wine, look for ourselves in windows.
Author: Shirley Rickett
Shirley Ann Wilson-Rickett was born in 1934 in Oneida, Tennessee and reared in Kansas City, Missouri. She has been a professional dancer, mother of five, an x-ray technician, and teacher. Rickett won First Prize in the 2011 McAllen Green Living contest, an exercise in ekphrasis, poems written for photos. Poems have appeared in New Letters, Nimrod, Antietam Review, The Kansas City Star, Smartish Pace, and numerous others. Rickett’s current projects include a collection of 30 poems, Repairs While You Wait, and a memoir/genealogy work of prose and poems. She and husband Charles retired to the Rio Grande Valley where Rickett writes, and occasionally works with the Pharr Literacy Project, in Pharr, Texas.