Ode to Mom
From the edges of her thin lips
to the boundary of her face
each line, old and new, is crafted
from a tale of intimacy.
As they bounce and play in rhythm,
she complains of their obtrusion
and declares they do not belong
in a place that was once unmarked.
I, however, marvel at each one
enchanted by the way these lines
caress her knowing eyes
and compliment her honest smile
I lean forward as I beg her
to never erase or alter
the lines and creases that depict
her life of laughter and heartbreak.
And finally confess,
I wish to have a face like yours
That moves in both sorrow and joy
And I will be proud
to have lived a life so full.