Hazel - 19/04/24

Gifts of citrine to my father,

left in hopes he’ll be happy -

not rock he needed,

but tree.

Not yellow, orange, brown,

but bursting, verdant green.

Bright-eyed, fight or flight, wide-eyed

rabbit,

alert and wild

with tumbling, blonde cascades swept

around her babes,

and stragglers clinging

to carpets in my childhood home.

Once sparse, now cluttered

with a life she danced in on the fringe

of her skirt -

the chimes,

the scarves,

the velvet’s jewel-toned sheen.

Protector. Safekeeper.

Ardent spirit-seeker.

A real mother.

I so admire her.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

' Once sparse, now cluttered
with a life she danced in on the fringe
of her skirt -
the chimes,
the scarves,
the velvet’s jewel-toned sheen.
Protector. Safekeeper.
Ardent spirit-seeker.
A real mother.
I so admire her.'

How a woman sets off, radiant young, then seen yet again having reached her beloved best. Applauded as she has become! 'Love the being of this poem, the words you've used, the gentle descriptive phrasing. How I would like to meet this clearly precious Hazel!