Picking beggar's lice off
the cuff of my jeans
Or picking out a seam
I had sewn crookedly
Untying a shoelace
knotted too tightly
Listening patiently,
prompting over and over
until I memorized my piece
for a school play or speech
I never had my Mother's
patience until I had
what she had learned from
children of her own --
Patience not only as virtue
but love of a kind
heretofore unknown
This made me tear up. How utterly lovely. <3
ReplyDeleteSometimes I kind of admire my poetry attempts myself. Thank you for your praise. I am well aware, and remember hundreds of times when I wasn't patient with you and my sons, which I regret, but there never seemed enough time too much of the time.
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