A Poem for Mother’s Day

By Philly

Mother’s Wealth

Empty-laundry-basket silence.
I overheard incoherently lisped hymns under babbled breath.
Stormy eyes that look through and through me and hands that link behind my neck.
Clean white cuddles.
There’s a party every time I come into the room.
My love will add to your inches but sometimes I want them to slow down.
I’m caught up with the idea that if I had the time, I’d have time.
And here are hand-me-downs, in time.
And heartbeats.

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