Tagged: son

because there is no

because there is no
end to a mother’s wisdom, we
can’t help but lean in
.
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even this morning,

even this morning,
i am hearing for the first
time the tale of grandpa,
bringing home
a pot of Madagascar
periwinkle, and how
his business thrived
for as long as the
garden blossomed
and his seven
buds bloomed
.
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y

for years, my father

for years, my father
rose before sunrise so that
we could sleep soundly –

we flourished in certainty
when love was something simple
.
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y

daddy’s girl

son after son