Maternelle

Head down, ear pricked in curiosity, The vizard of sleep dancing across Plump, pink, tired cheeks. The thump-thump-thump, A familiar beat, pounds against Almost-resting ears. A sound locked in memory, One that weathered the storm Of a troubled infant’s sadness. Not-quite sleeping, eyelids fluttering, She reaches out for the warmth Of mother’s hand. An exchange of heat awakens Tactile memories of that same touch From years long gone. No longer an infant, nor a child, But secure in the lock-and-key embrace Of maternal love. In mind’s eye, those hands are unchanged; Adorned with gold and sapphires, Marked by a life lived well. Blonde gave way to grey, But the beauty of her youth only aged Like a cask of the finest pinot blanc. Tired eyes open once more, Graze mother’s face carefully And remember every detail. Mother’s safety is remembered once more, Tightly wrapped in the memory To look back upon once more. For Mama’s birthday.