by Heaven Angleberger
My mother is a seed.
Life grows from her,
springing up into the open air
as if reaching for the Heavens.
My mother is a wave.
A beautiful blend of blue and greens,
a blanket covering the sand.
My mother is the sky.
So much discovered,
but many things yet to unravel.
She is a planet,
orbiting around me as if
I were her World.
Her stars,
her light.
My mother is a blade of grass.
Pointy and sharp, but if you take the
time to know her, you’ll see
a blade of grass soft to the touch.
A blade of grass that can
make a mark on your life, just as
grass stains your jeans.
My mother is Camille.
Courageous and outgoing,
A mile that runs on forever, but never tires you,
Mellow as a mother should be,
Immune to nonsense–
Life is too short for that,
Loving,
Even though she may not be loved back.
Post Script Magazine. 