Helicopter Mom


I found an old poem I wrote as a teenager. It’s about the seasons of womanhood. : )




Rays smile, beams dance down,
Morning, noon, then night pass away,
Images flicker, this circle shines now
A more yellow sky opens today–
Life rises, falls, in a rhythmical whirl
A pattern of arc, a spiral of light
Among the gold streaks a lone girl
Is watching the sun’s curling bright.
Here alone a girl is standing:
Waiting for the waking dawn,
Waiting in the morning’s rise.
Evening clothes her in antique hue,
Peace is the color, wisdom the word,
Silver portion is her’s, in this midnight blue–
To advise, to counsel, to teach, to award.
As the stars shine forth, on this, life’s last twilight,
I look at her bent hands, her dim eye,
A mother of mothers, a girl’s guiding light–
I hope she’s done…

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