Like A Mother by Kathie Anderson
The hands of time, boney claws with an unforgiving grip, or a mother of comfort dressed in golden gloves?
She attends as days and nights pass into memory, photographs pressed between pages of enlightenment.
Are we loved less, or perhaps more as canyons of doubt and distance are bridged with understanding hearts.
Hearts set free as years add color and substance to slender bodies with flawless faces.
The heat of summer, the fragrant green grass, escort us into a cascade of brilliance.
Shades of scarlet and amber grace us;
our movements glitter and shine.
Racing to the finish line has lost its appeal.
We linger over a second cup of coffee
as a lost conversation is taken up once more.
Humanity is rekindled, tenderly like a mother.