A mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother,
An aunt, a sister, a niece, it all depends,
A teacher, a mentor, a giant beacon of light,
A Christian icon you’ve always been!

A pillow of wisdom on whom we could all rely,
A shoulder to lean on when we needed a place to cry,
A lady of dignity, charm, passion and grace,
Exhibited throughout the ten decades that you faced.

And although you were a century in age, old
God blessed you--it was not of mind, body, or soul!
The family, we all will miss you, but we know
There’s no need for a tear in an eye,

For your tender, loving soul has already ascended
To that ethereal place on high!
A shining Star, a Matriarch, A ‘Blessed God-send,’
A true Angel to all of us--to the very end!

—A.D. Moore

Street Life

In the bowels of the city
Where dreams go untold
Children cry for their mothers
Junkies roam the streets
Bullets spray unsuspecting souls
People cry over shattered dreams
Forgotten, broken promises
Nothing is as it should be
They look, they listen
Searching for a way out...
Will they find it?

And survive street life.

* * *

Loneliness

Sitting here all alone,
Waiting by a muted phone,
Wanting you to come back home,
I wonder where you've gone?
My mind, my soul, my heart bleed,
I know now there is a pressing need,
One in which I did not succeed,
All because I failed to heed.
So now I sit alone and grieve,
Oh why did I not believe!
I never knew that it would lead,

To my total emptiness … I plead.

—A.D. Moore