Mother Hubbard's Troubles

her memories
herself
all that she is, sits 
nervously
on the back hall shelf

twice daily
there is an inventory 
of her precious collection
a fretful, careful,
tedious inspection 

she scours the house
on a mission to fill
“China stolen in broad daylight,
Lord as my judge!” 
she shrills

around familiar faces
her frustration increases
for surely they know 
the whereabouts
of her missing pieces

“oh please stop this thievery ”
she pleas, clutching a candle
alarmed at
the disinterest
in this terrible scandal 

rest now,
mother
come sit with me
we’ll talk of the weather
and what a lovely spring it will be

aren't the roses magnificent
this time of year
she smiles politely
her mind wound 
around the fear

of her memories
herself 
all that she is
is disappearing so disturbingly
from the back hall shelf