Dear children, I have worked these infinite years,
for an image of perfection and all of your careers.
Through spit up fits and boyfriends,
without a hope it would never end,
because, though tantrums and teenage angst
were the essence of maternal hell,
those times are not the ones I recall the most
or even last, they are but ghosts.
I remember the memories of us like a child swing,
you swung me so high into the clouds
that I saw the place where wonder and true beauty shrouds,
and at that exhilarating poignant point of giving all
I got the most back as the timed swing tumbles and falls.
So now,
as I tarry by the misty lake, prolonging our teary farewells
I shall fade for you all, and all will be well.
Author notes
"the exhilitarating poignant thing of giving your all for someone else"
In a list
A contest entry
- simple contest by Avendesora Dreamer.
700 points, ended September 1, 2008, 19 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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this is...so touching...I don't really even have the words to describe why this grabbed my heart so, but it did. Great job, and thanks for the entry!
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Nice write. I got a bit confused when tthey were swinging you but still done well. Pen on...~Poo~
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