Mom | Teen Ink

Mom MAG

By Anonymous

She would brush through my blond strands,
Gently tugging at the knots.
Tying in a ribbon with her hands
A bow with pink stripes or polka dots.
We were her two porcelain dolls
Except we would whine and scream.
She scooped us up after our falls,
And would scrub us until we’d gleam.
The master of all the roads,
The conductor of our train.
She sweetly scented laundry loads,
And magically removed each stain.
I’d fidget in my kitchen chair,
Though my plate was never too green.
She sliced up each apple and pear,
Even when we were in our teens.
I’d yell and slam my door to anger her.
Sobbing, I’d heave myself onto my bed.
She’d slowly climb in my bed, too,
And lean her ear against my head.
Even now when warm sweet tears
Glide from my eyes to my lips,
I call her so her voice can grace my ears,
She still mends my cuts from my falls and trips.



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This article has 2 comments.


i love this so much!

on Nov. 12 2009 at 7:53 pm
Writedancelove&live GOLD, Redding, California
12 articles 2 photos 66 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."
"Karen: If you're from Africa why are you white? Gretchen: Omg Karen, you can't just ask people why they're white."

Wow I really enjoyed this. Just one thing, and it probably doesn't bother anyone else but i'm really anal about these things, you say 'blond strands,' yet the girl has brown hair. lol