Mother Said
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Entry for the MOTHER SAID with Refractory Rhymes Poetry Contest: Sponsored by: Suzette Richards
“You’ll live,” my mother prompts;
above my screams, which pierced
the air with strident oomph;
she, bandaging my wounds.
It happened as I traipsed
the woods; I fell amongst
a pile of jagged rocks whilst
reaching for a gem, just glimpsed.
It was my birthday, eighth;
or maybe it was ninth,
and I had always dreamt
to find a gem so scarce.
“Now look, your pants are spoilt,”
she said, without much warmth.
I knew she wasn’t angry,
just a little anxious.
New pants, with money scarce
was for her a problem;
sewing machine - zigzag
soon, the hole was nothing!
Copyright © Terry Miller | Year Posted 2024
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