Not Ready

I’m not ready.

Hell, I don’t even know how to feel yet.
I vibrate from feeling to feeling so quickly,
gliding from one to the next, never really touching down.
I smile or laugh, but the remembrance swipes it off my face.
She whispers in my ear that she doesn’t want the smiles to be stolen away, but I love her.

I knew it was coming.
But, I’m not prepared to watch her suffer.
I’m not ready to let her go.

Mom

she is no super hero,
but she sure can fly

she grows her own roots,
even when the soil’s dry

she puts you forever first,
and holds you when you cry

she believes with all her heart,
that succees is when you try

she feels your every heartache,
as if through her own eye

she celebrates your joys,
her spirit soaring high

she savors your successes,
which money just can’t buy

all she hopes for is your smile,
for that’s what makes her fly

-art by Gustav Klimt; Happy Mother’s Day!, dedicated to my dearest friends, who are the most amazing mothers 💜