“I’ll take a look at it when I’m done with my wine.”
Mother is never done with her wine.
With a slow movement,
she twirls the glass,
takes one last sip
and opens a new bottle.

Mother likes to take her time,
drinking gin, drinking coffee,
reading her novels, cleaning the house.
She likes to keep busy.
Mother’s work is never done.

“Show it to me later.”
But later never comes.

Mother is too occupied.
Mother is too sad.
Mother is oblivious.

sweetest girl
my greatest joy is
watching your
imagination grow
I'm honored to
be a spectator to
how it unfolds

even when it frightens you
because that unfortunately
is the cost of creativity

but don't try to stop it
that will only weigh down
your effervescent spirit
that would only mix your
true colors to ashy grey

I'll hold your hand
walk you through
the gravel and sand
and remind you to
appreciate the grand

your wonder
delights me
I can't wait
to see how you
surprise me

T.S. Elliot reminds me that I don't have to rhyme,
Every line,
                  or,
                      be on time, in measure,
Or attitude,
Or make sense,
Or only write when I'm depressed,
Or sad or angry.

Which is good,
Because I, (and I'm not being sarcastic),
honestly feel fine