Carrie Richards
I cannot tell a story nor stretch a line
From brim to brim of love and fame
Without the mention of your name.
You have a way to make narratives shine
Sweet story teller, motherly, kind
Every moral packed properly in place
Every word a lesson spelled with grace
Such a book is made for quiet evenings
When we unpack memories; it will spill
Into everything, the numberless tales
The quiet winds the mustering gales
The lonely shepherd sitting on a hill
And all the heart's comings, and its goings.
Do you ever grow weary holding the image
Down like a lamb until it is shorn white
Do ever rewrite pictures taken on a page
So perfectly as the stars in their night
You never favored me as I have favored you
And rightly so, only to the great is due
Tributes that make us sing, O empress
Of the Soup, may you be forever blessed.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2010
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