Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

A repost of an old poem in honour of Mother’s Day here in the UK… perhaps more poignant this year than ever…

I see my mother’s hands before my eyes

The first caress that I had ever known,

And with a thrill of wonder realise

The hands I see before me are my own.

*

Where did the decades go, I have to ask,

At what point did my springtime slip away?

Is this mid-summer sun in which I bask

Or has the autumn brought a shorter day?

*

A mellowing has softened me, I know,

Yet coloured me with richer hue and shade,

And written on my face a map to show

The world the choices I have made.

*

I too can read the story as I look

Of all the things of which I am a part,

The journey traced in lines upon the book

Within the…