As a child I failed to recognize
the glimmer in my mother’s eyes.
A glint that surely did foresee
Dreams of what she hoped I’d be.
Although I feel I’ve let her down
I remain a jewel atop her crown.
No deed too dim nor choice askew
could cast a shadow in her view.
Time spared the eyes, her greatest sense
but claimed her mind as recompense.
Without the thoughts provoked by sight
insightful eyes closed dark as night.
I pretend today is just the same
although she can’t recall my name.
I stroke her hand and attempt to find
a way inside her troubled mind.
One lucid moment; the end is near,
her broken thoughts now crystal clear;
“Son, these tired eyes now plainly see
you’ve become twice the man
I’d hoped you’d be.”