just tending my garden, pulling on weeds
cursing sometimes, as the devils grass
rips at my fingers and makes them bleed
baby comes round, “mommy can we play”
“ya sure honey, the weeds can wait”
we toss the ball, run and chase
tumble in the grass, make silly faces
”mommy, tell me about when you were little”
and you wince at the thought and see a blurr
baby you say, “there’s nothing to tell
yesterday’s gone, but I can see today
how beautiful you are in so many ways
I give you eclectic, everyday new
to shine whatever way, you feel is you
be a portrait, be a landscape
maybe in oil or finger paint
be a story, be a song, be a bird, be a dog
today you may sing, tomorrow you might dance
just know you are strong, and oh so gentle
the most wonderful being, filled of it all
and know most of all, mommy loves you
now go tell the world how beautiful you are
and it is very ok that you know it too”