For my Mother, Rose, who in the nineties and aught’s
Cradled me close while I cried
Who read me a book of stories
Princess’ dogs and mice
Who sang a song of love and hope
Never losing her strength as she worked
Supportive in all the dreams that seemed
Impossible.

For my mother, Rose, who in the nineties and aughts
Baked cookies for Christmas
With pure love in her heart
Wrapped presents with lacy string
Who cooked up soup when I was ill
Who held me up when I started to fall
Who had an ear to listen, when hit with rocks
Was there to heal the bruise.

Who in the nineties and aughts
Took my hand and led the way
Who taught me how to speak,
Took words and made them a life art
Who held onto my bike as I wobbled
Through the park, I peddled onward
Who helps me paint my life canvas
Everyday.