Through Veils of Verbena
how can I begin to capture the kittened softness
of your smile
loosed within circles of laughter
that linger in my heart?
Half caught between poetry and the nursery
you wear your womanhood like comfortable curtains of alphabets decorating the mind.
Could it be said you prefer a novel
to a sink full of dishes?
I picture you living life as a child would
with thousands of angels nodding their approval
through veils of verbena.
If we could catch the future reflection
of your motherhood
through the eyes of your movie camera,
I think we would rejoice in the rest of the story.
Lady of laughter, cello case in hand,
returning from a symphony of family reunions,
generations of your posterity
gathered in your arms.