Hers was the smile
Of a mother in thrall
For her child’s joy
Though her eyes gave way
To the mother’s worry
For the inherent risk of play
Tag: motherhood
Mother
In magic hour’s
Golden glow
She tucks them gently
Into rustling sheets
Already deep
In slumber’s keep
A loving kiss
Upon each brow
Then turns away
Though not without
A backward glance
A silent sigh
She carries
With her
Into night
The peaceful sleep
Of innocents
Golden glow
She tucks them gently
Into rustling sheets
Already deep
In slumber’s keep
A loving kiss
Upon each brow
Then turns away
Though not without
A backward glance
A silent sigh
She carries
With her
Into night
The peaceful sleep
Of innocents
Sunset Watch
I watch over you
In the darkest night
Until the sunrise
In the darkest night
Until the sunrise
And when the darkness
Comes again
There am I
A beacon for you
To find your way
For you are the light
Which made my own life
Bright as a beacon
Mother and Child
She kept him swaddled up
Against the cold
Against her chest
Where he could easily
Reach her breast
Against the cold
Against her chest
Where he could easily
Reach her breast
He snuggled in
Rested his chest
Against her heart
Which she loved
The Fog of Love
Continued from Enveloped.
I feel her, on the other side.
Know she is there.
Waiting.
Know she is there.
Waiting.
Impatiently.
A mother knows these things.
And daughters always think they know better,
When they hardly know themselves.
I love the man.
She never understood that.
He is derisive,
Angers easily.
Tnorala Dreaming
In the time of world-dawn
When the ancestors dreamed
The world into being, raised
colour from the grey, formed
being from nullity
The women danced as stars
In the heavens
When the ancestors dreamed
The world into being, raised
colour from the grey, formed
being from nullity
The women danced as stars
In the heavens
The Turquoise River
She looked at the long, thin meandering crack trailing down the foundation wall like a coursing river. She felt compelled to trail her finger over the length of it, feeling the raspy turquoise concrete, cool under her fingertip.
“I’ll have to go get some sealant,” her husband had told her.
“But that will ruin the paint,” she replied, with an emotion that surprised her. “I don’t have any more.”
“You have to fix it before it gets out of hand.”
“But it’s such a small crack!”
He paused.
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