She was just here,
collecting the eggs for her mother.
collecting the eggs for her mother.
Now she is near,
in a sister and two brothers
who walk the paths of nine, seven, and four year-olds.
She is in their veins and footsteps,
and her hands maintain her hold on theirs.
She leaves the world her children,
running alongside, but kept at parallel.
She would have them collect skills for her,
Learn. Read, write. And remember.
She didn't have hens, but trust
in memory, recall, love.
That these three will not forget
there can't be a subset without a set,
and mathematical ratios converse with
values, ties, relationships.
She would say, enjoy, laugh, live,
and advise that the right shoes make an outfit.
She was just here, boiling the kettle.
Sleep, child, all is well.
(Marking a birthday, and a month after death. My heart is broken).
