Written on Sunday, posted on Monday,
As sure as death and taxes,
Wednesday's letter never
Every Sunday, since he left home ,
In pursuit of higher
David wrote his mother,
Lovingly from college.
What devotion and concern,
"Such a good boy," Sadie
"His Father would be so proud of him,
But, God rest his soul, the
man was dead."
How she adored her boy,
He did so well at school,
proudly shared his letters,
With her neighbors, as a rule.
It got to be routine,
Every Wednesday morn at Ten,
read sweet David's letters,
To her neighbors and her friends.
"An honor student," so she read,
Not bragging ... just a
"On the Dean's List every quarter,"
Of course, she was proud of
He played basketball and football,
And was on the varsity
He always made the winning touchdowns,
And the winning baskets,
too, it seems.
Because he held two part-time jobs,
He found it hard to get
So vacation time and holidays,
Found Sadie all alone.
From time to time, she'd board a bus,
And go and see her
Then she'd come back with glowing tales,
Of the wonders of her
He flew through his Freshman year,
And then his Sophomore,
Soon his Junior year was done,
And then his Senior year was
He graduated ... Phi Beta Kappa,
Top of his class, as
Sadie went to his Commencement,
Then came back home to show and
Her friends and neighbors, all excited,
But the next Wednesday came his letter,
Saying plans for home were
He'd stay on and work that Summer,
And enter med school in
So Sadie's friends and neighbors,
Would not see David after
But, Sadie, ever bright and cheerful,
Did not hesitate to
"Just think ... one day, A DOCTOR"
Her dreams were grandiose.
He always wrote he missed his mother,
And he hoped that she
He wanted to come home, he wrote,
As soon as he got time,
Her friends actually then lost track,
Of how long David
had been gone,
Yet every Wednesday came his letter,
Which helped his mother
to hang on.
Eventually, he finished med school,
And then his internship
Now, head surgeon at some hospital
Was what her David had
Of course, now he was far too busy
To consider coming
But his faithful weekly letters
Kept his mom from feeling so
She still read them every Wednesday
To her neighbors, with
But then one Wednesday morning,
Poor, old Sadie sighed and
It was right she died on Wednesday,
Though her David's
letter was not read,
But at least she had it in her hands,
neighbors found her dead.
The postmark on his letter
Was a local one ... in
And no return address was shown,
So how could David then be
Everyone was puzzled,
Just where did David dwell?
her friends went through her things,
And found David ... in a prison cell.
He had sent no letters home,
He was kept in
His crimes, too heinous to reveal,
And his mom, in utter
About those Wednesday morning letters?
His mom, of course,
had feigned them,
A mother with a broken heart,
Whose fantasies ordained
Now, don't berate poor Sadie,
Nor condemn her for her
She had found a way to cope,
With a life too cruel, it
Far more important than those letters,
Was the love from
Which she received each Wednesday morning,
When the mail
arrived at Ten.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis