Listening to every heart
She pauses in her stride as if to say
ďI will think of that another dayĒ
and goes on her winding way
through that storybook called her life.
Sheís in her late forties and in her mind
she canít be more than twenty-nine;
even when she looks in the mirror she sees
someone still young and slightly free.
Sheís married with children and their children too;
and it hasnít caught up with her yet
but soon images of her mother will get
into her way and into her life permeate.
At 18 and with visions of her wedding gown to wear
she caught a glimpse of her mother at 38 and fair,
still acting young, but old to the daughter,
doing things with Dad they probably hadnít oughta.
Now at forty-something she thinks back some
thirty years ago to when she was young
and being this old was so very far away
and wonders what did happen to all of those days?
She ponders sometimes and wonders if
she ever inherited her motherís gifts
of being right, and sincere, and always true;
wonders at the fallacies, really having no clue.
Too late now to go to her mother for advice
she has to stumble alone on her own through life
for her mate has no clue to those thought processes within
which silently causes a raucous, sometimes a horrifying din.
She was never fearful of life, nor getting old
it wasnít that she was careless, nor hardly called it bold;
more factual of nature, a calm mix of generations
moving from day to day, never sensing deep sensations.
She had loved, and more than once
and looking back, never uncovered the fuss
that she once caused with her looks and with her stride,
because in her mind, she was really never more than a bride.
Sometimes she caught glimpses and sly smiles from men
but she being she, thought perhaps showing was a bit of hem,
not knowing it was the curves, and the smile, and the eyes
that gave the men a gift in their dull lives.
She poo-pooed her friends when compliments reigned
for more than beauty, she wanted to be sane
and exact, and uncompromising of lifeís game
never looking for starlight or bright nights or fame.
She had taken some chances, a few
but with a sense of foreboding from the danger withdrew
knowing she would rather ride the unending tide
and survive the night, and ultimately stay by his side.
If she sounds dull and wifely and not quite keen
then she is a woman youíve never seen
but look around, as they surround this world
and you will see this motherís girl.
Words will always express our feelings true.