Mother's Favorite

My first flesh, forever home circumferenced from the womb. You feed me with your food. I grow and turn regress, grow worse. For all of me there’s always room. Nothing is as sure as this: my mother’s hope cannot resist to bring forth heart that’s hidden to nurture all that’s living: budding shoots anguished roots she’s gifted in her giving. My being is a seed that pains and promises the greatest gain, planted in her heart favored from the start— a place so many more have claimed! for Mom poetry contest