You’ve done your best.
You no longer fear the purely gates.
You’ve accounted for your mistakes.
Tried to mend and find common ground.
You can’t get your way.
The mother (or father) card has expired.
Whatever means of keeping score.
Has blown away with each lingering breath.
You taught them well.
In fact, they’re mesmerizing others with their charm and manners. Each expressing it in different ways.
Butterflies among moths they are.
As individual as perfectly possible.
Strong in their perspective between
right and wrong.
It’s shadowlessly plain.
There is no grey area.
Good and bad gets rattled around a lot.
Good people get into bad acts, becoming a bad act.
Defined as someone that takes and takes, then exudes nonstop chatter, do bad things to good people, expects perfection as a mission accomplished.
All people start out being good.
Take babies for instance.
They smile back with abandonment and glee.
They don’t see a tarnished veneer.
They happily smile when your eyes meet theirs.
A melted blend of hearts.
I trust you.
No caveat was attached.
No deeper meaning than a plea.
Just don’t break my heart.
It’s just as precious as yours.
Don’t be author of someone else’s pain.
Administering admonishments to Mother’s is against the law.
Telling Mother’s what to do, without them asking for your advice, impression, or thoughts.
In the sunny days of summer.
Look at the sun.
Hear the birds sing, their flight’s beat.
Smell the flowers as you weed.
Sometimes unable to distinguish between a weed and a flower, unless you smell them.
If you have positive sight.
You can distinguish between the two.
Which one is beauty blooming and which one do you inhale a microscopic bug?
Crawling around in the garden suits me.
At least I can get up when I want to.
Sometimes to sound effects of crackle and pop.
Without a cane (now I’m intentionally being dramatic). On my own, iTunes playing thru the ear buds.
Who changed earphones to ear buds anyway?
I don’t recall being invited to any vote.
Nothing blooms out of my ears.
Not counting ear wax.
Which, by the way, nobody warned me of ingrown hairs festering and ear leakage just as yours truly was nodding off. That’s usually around 3 am. The committee is holding me to task for ill manners, displeasing behaviour, or rolling tape on disasters (or annoyances, indistinguishable between).
Ahhhhh, how freeing.
Being at peace with my thoughts.
Holding my vibe together.
Letting go of what is done.
Forgetting why it matters.