#Micropoetry Monday: Realms of Motherhood


Vintage Anne.jpg

She loved her baby for who she was now,
not for who she might become.
She’d love her in all her forms,
for every 7 years, she was a new being.

The long-awaited child was an unsolved crossword puzzle
without clues to fill in the boxes.
Love & care were the only answers.

her mother read to her fairy tales,
nursery rhymes,
& stories just-so;
every morning,
poetry from Frost and Field,
fables of Aesop,
& artful science articles,
feeding her imagination;
but twas when she read to her Bible stories
like a Prophetess–
a Prof & Poetess of Fire and Lit–
that her child’s universe was expanded
& her little girl saw her place in it.

He was the key,
she, the lock,
& when they were
fitted together,
they unlocked that door
of opportunity
called parenthood.

She was not unemployed,
but had been placed in a
permanent volunteer position, with a
job description that changed daily.


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