and dusts your long eyelashes,
While dirt and dead crumpled leaves fly
between fingers so eager to crush.
Only after a moment beg to be washed.
With fingers all ready to dirty once more,
These brothers come knock-knocking at my heart's door.
I open
and with their arms they open too.
One begs for a kiss.
Another a chance to stand tall.
I give, give, and they give to me even more.
My heart floods with meaning,
With purpose and joy,
When I keep close to this spectacular task:
Motherhood, Boys, is great and becomes greater,
When I remember to serve myself last.
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