A Mother's Tale, a poem by Mike Ricketts at Spillwords.com
Elia Pellegrini

A Mother’s Tale

A Mother’s Tale

written by: Mike Ricketts

 

No one can truly duplicate the love a mother has

It is not the deep, long hugs
the drill-like kiss on the cheek
the glow one feels when their child does well
the worry about their arrival time,
the concern over whether they will arrive safely,
even if they are fully grown.

All this, in the family home,
while that child — boy or girl — gradually grows,
experiencing warmth and love.

There comes a day when the mother senses
all is good.
And it is good enough
to take steps beyond the norm
to leave for a new venture —
which means no returning home by nightfall.

Oh, my child has grown.

It is a double-edged sword
that cuts both ways.
But you have done your job.
Because if that child can now leave
with just one turn of the head to look back and wave goodbye,
and then look forward to forge ahead,
then the major job is complete.

Houston, we have lift-off.
Thunderbirds are go.
Well done, Mum

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