Mother's Grave

southern men just dont cry.

he stood by his mother's grave,
not a flinch, not a sound...
except cars passing by.

not a good son,
too many wild nights,
& run-ins with the law...

but he could still remember...
her dumplings, & the books
she read to him at night...
the way she taught him to think for himself,
told him never to follow anyone...
her old Bible, & her tired smiling eyes...

southern men just dont cry...
but weeping's a state of mind!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!