This column is dedicated to one of the highest art forms in the sphere of human communication—Poetry. Nothing is nobler than the expression of human emotion. All poetry is perfect, no matter what the format or the background of the poet. A voice is a voice. With poetry, you get more than words. You get rhythm, you get sound, you get silence, you get mood—you get emotion. What more can you ask? This column is also dedicated to all the people who have ever lived, those here now, and those yet to come. God bless the poets among you. They carry the soul of the world.

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Foster Mom

A beautiful moving tribute...

With a fragile hand she reached up, and gently touched his cheek
She stared at him through squinted eyes, as if to sneak a peak.
He took her hand and kissed it. Tears swelled in his eyes.
Smiling he said: “I love you mom, I hope that’s no surprise.”

Smiling back she nodded, then whispered: “Thank you son.
From that moment by the creek, you’ve been my special one.
The good Lord soon will take me. I know it is time to go.
Before I do let me share, some things that you should know.

I tried so hard to have a child, but it wasn’t meant to be.
God was kind and generous, when he sent you to me.
You were so small and lonely, - No shoes upon your feet.
But you didn’t cry or say a word, in that blazing summer heat.

You looked up at me and smiled with tussled hair and dirty cheek.
And then I knew what to do, with a boy found by the creek.
You could not be left alone, so I took you home that night.
When at last you fell asleep, I knew that it was right.

At first it wasn’t easy, so many rules involved.
Step by step we made our way, and together got it solved.
You became my foster son, and I your foster mom.
Later I adopted you, unsure where you were from.

You had no memories of your past, no family we could find.
It was my joy to raise you, and you were worth my time.
No mother could have asked for more, nor could have had more fun.
With a little lad found by a creek, God sent to be my son.

When the Lord comes to take me, to heaven up above
My husband will be waiting, with a heart full of love.
He will know you filled the hole, my heart had when he died.
We’ll pray that one day we may have, our son there by our side.”

He let the tears flow freely, no shame upon his face.
They held each other lovingly in a very long embrace.
“Thank you, mom, for all you’ve done, and for giving me a home.
You saved me from the elements where I was left to roam.

That night I made a promise, to never let you down.
So you could hold your head up high, when you went into town.
Whenever life was difficult or a hill too steep to climb,
My mind comes back to that special day, when I wasn’t left behind.
Thank you, mom.”

Copyright - (By Howard Wand) - Rogue River, OR


Current and past articles from the Poetry is Perfect: More than Words column: