My SuperWoman, My Heroine, My Idol....

Happy Mother’s Day to my dear Grandmum,

Grandmothers are mothers who are grand,

Restoring the sense that our most precious things

Are those that do not change much over time.

No love of childhood is more sublime,

Demanding little, giving on demand,

More inclined than most to grant the wings

On which we fly off to enchanted lands.

Though grandmothers must serve as second mothers,

Helping out with young and restless hearts,

Each has all the patience wisdom brings,

Remembering our passions more than others,

Soothing us with old and well-honed arts.

Happy Mother’s Day to my dear Mum,

Author of my personality:
Pleased, I hope, with what you read in me;
Pleased, I hope, with episodes to come.
Yet now I, too, would get some pleasure from
Making you the book in which I see,
Of all the players in my family,
The central character, whom I would plumb.
How beautiful to move in that direction!
Each to each a separate source of pleasure,
Reading in the other’s happiness,
‘Mid much description, underlying love.
So would we deepen the connection,
Discovering new passages to treasure
As we follow time towards tenderness,
Yearning for what years unread will prove.

To my sister on Mother's Day,

Often I remember how we were

More focused on ourselves when we were young.

Years and children sweep in like a tide,

Separating us from distant shores.

In truth, we're even closer than before,

Sustaining our childhood inside,

The memories to which we both belong

Enriched by what love teaches us to bear,

Resonant with what we rarely say.