One look at you, my wonderful child, is the greatest consolation I can ever have. |
On a drizzly morning, I sit here and mourn ‘bout my lingering thoughts that had been worn. Tears welled unnoticed, while I heaved a sigh, Silently grouching over how my dreams did die. Startled and fazed, behind I felt a soft poke, My son did wake and confusedly he spoke. “Mama, what’s wrong? Are you tired? Are you sore? What’s there to do? Can I help with your chore?” In panic I rise, briskly head out the door, Placed a tin pail on the earth's damp floor. “Nothing, Honey!” I said, “Mama’s just gathering rain!” Intending to conceal all my desolation and pain. Got plenty more questions, he blinked, he voiced, “What’s that for? Why are your eyes moist?” I searched for words to answer and amuse, “Just saving some, Son! Might be of use!” A boyish grin he gave and began to think, As we left for breakfast, he threw me a wink. A while has fled; The sun did shine, All is green and above, I see a line. I know I’ll ache but must surely move on, I’ll be alright, with my boy I’m not ‘lone. I wonder from where, a happy tune came, There’s my son humming, singing an old name. Curious of him, I dare sneak and ask, "What are you doing? Are you on task?" I was taken aback, hearing his reply, (Silly ole me, forgetting the time did fly,) Did I just read you a story last night? Sang a lullaby and kept you from fright? How then today you’ve grown old and wise? Wrapping me in hugs while whispering twice, “Mama, look! The sky is now clear! I am gathering clouds for you to cheer. It might be of use to wipe dry your eye, From the streaks of rain that you did cry!” |