No red ribbon
for the braids in my hair
No tucking in at night
with milk, warm bread and jam
No cheerful eyes of adoration
to power my day
No soothing words
or gentle caresses
No fiery passion for purple dogs
colored well within the lines
No standing O’s for grade school concerts
you were never there
What I don’t got
A mother’s love, warmly given
This is quite powerful, Julie.
Ω
Thanks, Alan. A sad, recurring theme, I’m afraid. We can pick our friends but not our family. So true.
That realization is everything.
Ω
It is powerful … and sad