Fair-Haired Son

Shallow breathing, speech a jumble,
last appeal for fair-haired son.
Deathbed dirges sound the last note,
final wishes in the wind ...

Rheumy eyes glance toward the doorway,
Mother's teardrops flood the void.
Broken-hearted, she grows weaker
while she waits for him to come.

Second-born, unwanted child,
starving for his mother's love,
dries her tears; his mother smiles!
though he's not the chosen one ...

Wayward son waits down the hall,
not fifteen feet from her demise,
thumbing through the Wall Street Journal,
checking his financial pulse.

Mind's eye on inheritance,
the junk bond junkie beats the bell.
Flat line keening chills the air as
Mother travels toward the Light.

All Rights Reserved
Fair-Haired Son copyright2007, Jackie Marx