Mom

I remember the day you fell asleep.
It was a late day in July.
He said, "Shouldn't you be getting home by now?"
I spent the night in a sigh--too wired for a weep.

The long shadows of the evening set in
I had been on my bmx bike (shiny rims & spokes, cool graphic pads)
The tall elms and oaks strenuated a din
A chorus of a life...

You must've been traveling at the time
We saw you the next day lying in a bed

The other day I paid you a visit
Strong arms lift you up--
Wet covered wet and tired you sighed
The shiny rims of your eyes are dim's joy

Yet you've been traveling all this time, waiting.
Shouldn't you be getting home by now?