Literature
Ode To My Mother
She said I’d write. What could I say? I cannot write!
She is the ink, the pen. and I… only the sheet
On which she wrote. She spun my body from delight,
Wove my soul from her fond dreaming, her heart discreet.
Nine months she built me, hers alone, and then came sweet
Release. “Hush now, baby…” Taught me by day. By night,
She sang. “Just take one small step!” Small arms stretched, to meet
Larger ones. Tender kisses made small, bruised knees right.
Sweet gardenias, sun warmed sheets. Chapter Title: “Sprite.”
Off to school. Knee socks, New things to see, friends to greet.
“Keep your Ma