She proudly handed me her photo;
The shy teenager towering over her
Is her spitting image.
When she saw him last, he was kindergarten age.
She didn’t know if he remembered her.
He didn’t know if she still cared.
All doubt dissolved in the prison visiting room Sunday.
He exists in a state home now because no one wants him
except his locked up momma.
When she is paroled, in a year or so,
their plan is for her to rescue him
as soon as she can.
In their separate state facilities,
she now dreams of the day when she can save her boy;
he lies awake yearning for his mother’s arms.
Patricia Prewitt
January 24, 2008
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