A LAVENDER UNEQUALED LOVE

A LAVENDER, UNEQUALED LOVE
(FOR MOTHER)

You spoke to me softly when I was a baby,
knew I was fragile, knew I could break,

And you cheered as I cleared the
hurdle of crawling,

The daunting stunt of walking upright.

You dried forgotten playground tears,
cooked and cleaned like a woman possessed,
a legend in your own time
with wide-eyed kindergarteners.

You taught me to drive when I was a teen.

Fearlessly you braved the wheel,
as I ripped around corners and parallel parked
and slammed on the brakes,
dodging last minute dangers.

You were there at college,
where I tried to make you proud,
and you listened to Barry Manilow
at decibels quite loud.

You were there for all the ceremony,
the scandal and the bland
and when I struggled drowning,
you led me to dry land.

We shared a wiry, precious pup
who tumed into a wise, sweet friend.

The sweet joy of his growing up,
the anguish at his passing.

We’ve shared ups and we’ve shared downs,
Sarcoidosis, Parkinson’s,
country drives and coffee breaks
and quiet confidences.

We’ve shared Judy Collins
on balmy Wolf Trap evenings,

And a lavender unequaled love
that grows with passing seasons.

-BRUCE POTTS
COPYRIGHT 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED