A Mother’s Love

blaze-bonfire-burn-211157.jpg

A slower kindle,
A softer ember;
Old youthful fire,
Now just a cinder.

Mellowed like wine,
Or a half-faded rose,
A calmer waltz,
That ebbs and flows.

Less moved to passion,
But when so, deeper;
My love overflows –
For my grandchild’s keeper.

What used to matter
Matters less;
I take more time…
More time to bless.

I look for joy,
Less frivolously;
I’ve found what’s true,
More thoroughly.

My wisdom blooms;
I try to share…
But most of all,
To show my care.

Above all things,
I’ve found a love;
And where I breathe,
I breathe thereof.

A softer gait;
A slower pace,
But my full heart,
It can embrace

The ones I love,
More deeply now,
And richer still,
And this I vow:

You are my joy,
Our chain of life:
And I live now,
Much less in strife.

So let me hold
You in my heart,
My dearest child,
And never part.

~Amarine Rose Ravenwood

© Chrissy’s Creative Corner 2019

All images public domain

Old Shoes

shoes-2216498_1920

How do we decide:
When is a shoe old?
When it’s worn in,
and nicely soft-soled?
Or is it when it’s
tattered and threadbare?
When its color
matches your head hair?

When is the time
of your shoes’ middle age?
When they’re broke-in
and your feet they assuage?
They still look nice,
and comfy, and fit…
They might be your favorites,
they’re loved, quite a bit.

Well, this, too, is life;
we are much like our shoes:
We’re not old ‘till frail,
battered, and bruised,
By the very air ‘round us;
air we enjoy;
When we’re far too mature
and refined to be coy.

Middle age is a cross
between comfort and fear;
A time when we long
to hold close what’s held dear.
And we look to the future,
and we feel some worry,
Our hearts are still big;
our sight’s not quite blurry.

We’ve gained qualities
of wisdom and hindsight;
We still look young,
but we’ve gained Grandma’s insight.
It’s a hard age to be,
but it’s also perfect:
In between young and old;
a time to reflect.

We’re far from worn out;
we’ve still got much wear left;
And we know what joy is,
and we know what is bereft.
We keep looking forward,
while we also look back,
And we seek our own place,
and we’ve learned our own knack.

Don’t forget where you are:
you’re not olden yet,
Those shoes still have
some good tread, I’ll bet.
And while the sun
glistens and shines,
You still have sparkle,
in all kinds of times.

~Amarine Rose Ravenwood

© Chrissy’s Creative Corner 2019

All images public domain

Liberation of Maturity

pretty-woman-1509956_1920

In grace she walks,
As in a breeze,
And though she’s dreaming
Of all the seas.

Her windswept hair,
Of lighter gray,
Still flows as youthful
In her midday

As it did
When she was young,
Full of spirit,
Freshly sprung.

But now, she glides,
Above it all,
Beyond the raging
Wild call.

And flows her mind,
In wisdom’s loops;
Freed from, now,
Confusion’s hoops:

Self-finding done,
And in the past;
She goes on now,
Free, at last.

~Amarine Rose Ravenwood

© Chrissy’s Creative Corner 2019

All images public domain