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A Mother’s Poem

When you reach the right age I will teach you how to pop pea pods and pick cherry tomatoes,

how to make pumpkin pie from scratch, milk a cow by hand. And you’ll teach me of butterfly wings,

pebble shapes and designs, animal clouds in the sky. And I can’t wait.

As you grow, I’ll show you how to change a flat tire,

to fold dress pants and fitted sheets,

to say, “Thank you, sir” and “Good day, madam.” And you’ll teach me

of bubble moustaches in the tub, fuzzy caterpillar trails,

flour snow angels on the kitchen floor. And I can’t wait.

When you are ready to hear, I’ll share about your ancestors’ journey and faith, their stories.

And you’ll teach me of timelessness, beauty,

innocence.

And I can’t wait.

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