Micropoetry Monday: The Rainbow Spectrum

Rainbow spectrum.jpg

“Look into my eyes on purpose
& don’t repeat after me,”
she often said to the little girl
who didn’t move mountains
but built them,
even as she would someday
climb them.

No two snowflakes are alike,
& she melted in her mothers arms—
not the designer label her mother had hoped for,
but the special label
that made her love her all the more.

For her,
motherhood was spent
smacking tags on clothes in the store
& plush animals at home,
on spinning pennies
& Minnie Mouse by the tail,
on “crashing the checkers”
of Connect Four,
only for the tray to be filled up again
with what she called mustards & ketchups.
Though such activities became
repetitious,
the payoff was in her daughter’s smile
that lit up her face like a gloriole
& with the laughter that filled a room
with mirth.

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