An ode to my Mum
When the sun finally sets upon days: long and trying
When the moon starts to rise above nights: brightly shining
I know, as I lie in my warm bed; to sleep
That some things I have done make you mad, make you weep
But despite this, and more, as my dreams take control
I know in the morning I've a clean slate as sure
As the sun rises, blinding, o'er the hills and the streets
'cause you never hold grudges, and you never keep score
And I think if you did, I could never catch up
For I owe you more years than I've even yet lived.
And the best I can do, to express how I feel,
can never quite grasp how entirely real
and immense and so vast this emotion can be,
that it sometimes promotes it to obscurity.
And the meaning is lost in an anthill of words
while the thought floats away, untethered, unheard.
Well there's only one word that could even come close,
And while both underused, and yet used far too much
That it's meaning is warped to a crude kind of shrug
It still works quite nicely, when the timing is right
So I say to you Mum, it's entirely true,
That you're awesome, the best, so truly;