Edvard Munch, The Dead Mother (1899)

Lonely

Whatever I say to her, Mommy can’t hear,
so I’m raising a hand to cover each ear.
Monkey see, monkey do is a familiar rhyme
but she doesn’t seem to see me this time.
She’s either sleeping or maybe she’s ill,
tucked under covers, all quiet and still.
Because daddy is busy and feeling real sad,
I’m afraid if I bother him, it would be bad.
But, once she’s finished napping, I hope that she’ll say
that she is all rested and ready to play,

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