She Has Sterling Silver Spun In Her Hair

Mother of Pearl

She threatens them ever morning at 7 with black dye

Talking to numbers 3 and 31 as if they were
her 4th and 5th born
And I often wonder if I caused
18 through 20

She finds herself in the mirror
lost in her reflection
Cursing wisdom
rearing it’s head at fifty something, thinking to herself
that somehow
somewhere
the harsh reality of age
has finally caught up with her.

She stares at them, trying to force them out
she couples age and wisdom together finer then Einstein's last thought.

She Has Sterling Silver Spun In Her Hair

And Speaks the language of southern slaves picking thoughts in cotton fields
she would rip off small pieces of herself to make others whole

You have rightfully, earned what you have mother
You raised 3 generations
Single handedly
with booth hands tied behind your back
booth feet shackled in sorrow
looking back on the future
wishing tomorrow
hoping
that today’s meal might produce itself

Finding fulfillment in the Hugs and Good Night Kisses
From your children

There is no way your Mortal !

I can only hope that you've passed down 5% of your perfection

Mount Vesuvius is envious of your shadow

You the Controller of the wind
You Canary diamond roses in the Garden of Eden are Jealous of your sent
You
The one that has beauty trapped in her footsteps
You
Priceless Perfection
You

Mother of Pearl