The Gift

She read for me when I couldn’t …Winnie the Pooh,
The Secret Garden, Sam I Am and Green Eggs and Ham.
She loved the words, the pictures they made for you,
The places and people and problems, adventures and plans.

When I was old enough she taught me to read.
I hated the process and reluctant, did not find it fun.
Over and over she determinedly made me
Read kiddy books and poems until practice time was done.

At some point, I forget when it was of course,
I began to become curious what might come next
And then unaware, I began to explore
The written word as if, like her, I’d been hexed.

I read whatever I could from magazines and bad prose
To fascinating stories of ponies and their girls
I began to form a passion for horses and rose
To a teenager obsessed with having a horse that was all hers.

When that didn’t happen I returned to my books
And discovered the romance novel as quite a fun host
And began to devour every book with a romantic look
I have to admit that to this day I love them the most.

She gave me the gift all those spongy, young years ago
Not just to be able to appreciate an article or volume
But the ability to recognize how far I could go
If I just let myself dance around in my mental word room.

I speak of my mother, known as Ma to my brother and me
Especially when we were reluctant to do what we were bid
She gave us so much over a lifetime of loving
But reading and writing I think, were the best gift for this kid.

Kathy Adams