I was IMing my youngest son, and the conversation turned toward what he could do for his mother’s upcoming birthday. I wrote this as a prompt for his music.
Happy Birthday,
IFK.
She was surprised/
when I came./
Unexpectedly/
a blessing in her/
age,/
a comfort, /
one more step/
back/
into her golden-haired/
youth./
Stong I became,/
and protected her/
as she guided me,/
shielding each other/
from life’s awful realities./
She always lifted/
and loved/
and supported/
and guided/
and nurtured/
and believed./
And now that I’m /
gone,/
she still does./
And she will always/
pray/
for me,/
because I/
am her,/
and hers,/
alone.