I think he is the luckiest to have her.
I think she is just as lucky to have him.
Or good fortune is measured
In how many good memories
Are created,
And bounding one another
By a prayer and in some ways,
Our good intentions and ability
To try.
I think time eventually kills us all,
But I believe in my mother’s faith
And how her nurturing,
Or somehow her words
Like sacred and adorned
With gold, and a touch of heaven
Reminds me
Of how I have came a long way
And with every fall
I find her prayers and her spirit
Will continue to catch me
While gently allowing me
To find my feet
As it would land, heel to toe
And I would be able to run, again.