REMEMBERING A MOTHER
To me, there will never be a mother quite like you.
Your hands that cradled me when I was born.
The wishes you whispered to me when I was tucked up asleep.
Dreams for the future you wished for me, yet I could not hear, or speak.
You yearned for a future brighter than yours.
Blighted by two World Wars.
To be something special was your ardent wish for me.
All my life I did my best; achievements there were a few.
Yet none measured up to what you hoped I would do.
Now I am writing, a dream you never had for me.
I am dyslexic, you see.
How you tried with spelling bees to teach me the beauty and power of words.
Hard as I tried, the messages between my brain and my pen did not flow successfully.
Stories became my stock in trade, as I acted my characters into the plot.
Then technology came into play, correcting my spelling and punctuation right away.
Mother, you grew prouder each time I called.
When I sat and read aloud the newest stories, some from your past.
One day, before you passed, you said, “I always knew you would do something;
I just did not know what. Locked inside you all these years were stories awaiting sympathetic ears.
My whispers in your ear have been fulfilled at last.”
2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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