Thursday, July 30, 2020

I am mama

You were the shooting star

I hitched my dreams to.

Ephemeral, a rainbow

doused by the blinding sun.

Youth was not kind to

these dreams. I was not

kind to my youth.

Fighting for air, crying 

for just one breath,

It was almost the end.

Then you were there. 

A flutter, oh, sweet hope.

Your first cry was my first breath.