The Promise (Poetry)


When I was young, my mother said,
The Virgin in her dream appeared,

“Do not harm your child, keep her safe,

She’ll be your light in aging life.”

  So I was born one sweet May morn,

  A lonely rose among the thorns,

  Or so my mother sweetly thought,

  Just as expected of a poet.

I grew up within her embrace,

Taught to be grateful of God’s grace,

Learned poetry at a young age,

Under her patient tutelage.

  Now I’m with children of my own,

  Even they have already grown,

  And now, though my mother is old

  She is still as fit as she should.

I’m not sure if I had fulfilled,

The promise I’m supposed to be,

I hope I’m what she expected,

That she’s happy to live with me.

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