Honored Guest

Things are winding down
at this gathering
of family and dear friends.
New Age music softens,
subtle hints telegraph
in hushed tones to stragglers
that it's long past 8 o'clock,
time to think about dispersing.
There's always tomorrow,
after all.

My mother and I rise to leave,
turning to say our goodbyes,
and in a flash she's disappeared
into the maze of rooms
that seem to lead somewhere new
but leave you surprised
to find yourself
right back where you started.

I wander about for a bit,
peeking around doorways,
checking the main entrance
to see if she's waiting outdoors,
when I bump into a daughter
of the Honored Guest
who sees me glancing about
with a puzzled look.

By way of explanation
(unmindful of my choice of words
until they've escaped my lips)
I blurt: "I've lost my mother!"
Instantly I wish
I could stuff them back inside my head
where they belong,
under the circumstances.

For of course, sadly
The Guest of Honor
lies in surreal repose
only a few steps away,
surrounded by opulent bouquets
whose beauty and mingled scents
cannot mask the brutal fact
that another Mother
is forever lost to her children.

Eileen Auger
10/10/08