The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.


Sunday, September 18, 2005

Motherly

There's never a thing to compare to a mother
whose world fills with sacrifice
in nurturing care for her children and others -
the essence of selfless life.

Her ways will the future remember and uphold:
charity, kindness goodwill.
This world will her children sow seeds for the untold
lives they'll influence and fill.

One: Her pig-tailed locks frame her face and smile.
She dances the day away.
She dreams big, with fingertips rich as the Nile.
The world is her place to play.

Two: How she loves to read stories, to play and share
and act with matronly love.
She laughs with enchantment and she listens with care.
Sweetness is what she's made of.

Three: He once wore a firehat, kept little toys,
from home he never was far.
Now he's a father to a baby girl and boy
and he teaches them the stars.

Four: He's involved, strong-willed; he's got magic and might -
easily steals the show.
His presence is contagious, he's happy and bright
and constantly on the go.

Five: He's the last, exploring the shores of the world,
always a guitar in hand.
He's passionate and cheerful, his brows are furrowed,
he loves the mountains and sand.

Through these pairs of eyes she's influenced and given
outlooks filled with desire.
In compassion and love her children have striven
and set the world afire.

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