Poetry

The anole stopped and stared at me.
He didn’t seem afraid at all.
I turned my head and he was gone
His stare was just a stall.

Shamrock in hand,
the three leaves fluttered as
Patrick explained the trinity.

He twisted her and turned her round,
Led her deep into the maze.
Until she sensed no trace of home.
She circled, wandered in a daze

For just a moment, I wished the nostalgic wish that crosses every mother’s mind from time to time. I wished that I could go back in time and hear the youthful voices of my children and their friends one more time.