Mother and Child

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MOTHER AND CHILD

“Is there something wrong?” she asks,
when from my tasks I sit at last.
On her brow is a worried frown,
as she seeks to know what is wrong.

I look into her kind, brown eyes,
and my thoughts travel back in time.
A time, when the same questions of her I would ask,
when in my arms, her tiny form I would clasp.

Her tears I would gently wipe,
whenever she awoke in fright.
In my arms, her head she would rest,
and laugh when I gently tickled her chest.

“Everything will be all right,” I would say.
“In a while, your fears will go away.”
She would intently look into my eyes,
and suddenly, would burst into smile.

Was it that long ago she was a babe?
What a blessing the Father gave!
“Nothing is wrong,” I answer, with a sigh,
but she looks at the tears welling in my eyes.

My face she now tenderly holds,
as tears down my cheeks silently flow.
With her arms around me, my tears she wipes,
then tenderly hugs me as if I were a child.

How ironic, this reversal of roles!
She is now the comforter of my soul.
A funny face she makes at me,
then smiles when I chuckle in glee.

A rush of love comes over me,
as in her eyes, relief I see.
“I love you mum,” she says with a smile.
“Everything will be all right.
Just wait for a while.”

By Hilda Simmons

In awe of nature’s beautiful landscapes, Hilda Simmons finds nature’s beauty has a calming and inspirational effect on her. Originally from Guyana, formerly British Guiana in South America, Hilda now lives in Lethbridge, AB enjoying her retirement. Her poems touch on love of nature, love of family, loss of loved ones, animals and spirituality. The Poetry Institute of Canada in British Columbia has also published some of her poems.

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