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Mother,
You are my little cherry branch,
My silver marigold turned to gray,
Teacher of so many years,
You draw the night again with
your white sleeve
Until midnight above the school's white notebooks.
You come to see me off.
Your tear hidden under a smile
So desperately burns my soul
I don't make bold to say about something cherished
on your trembling shoulder.
I do not dare to kiss you unless
A gentle breeze embraces us in his arms
This garden, yard,
The shaded lilies of the valleys...
Our quit paradise
where my Mother is God.
Tamara Hanenko
Published in "Poetic Voices of America",1998
By Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum
Sistersville,WV