The crackle and pop of old vinyl,
Alabama, live, that’s what she played.
Yellow gloves up to her elbows,
Pledge, lemon, that’s what she sprayed.
Singing and dancing we followed her,
Cooking and cleaning all morning long.
Household work felt more like a party,
She made it seem like our own special song.
We were so poor but we didn’t know it,
She made adventures out of a drive to the store.
We all sang “Silly Snake” in the back seat
When she smiled at us, we all smiled more.
Those are the true gifts a mother can offer,
A song, a game, a sweet memory.
Dancing in her arms while washing the dishes,
The music of life was engrained into me.
Poet's Corner 