TRUE


Three o’clock in the morning -
Blue-gray eyes veiled by heavy lids
In peaceful sleep.

Red-blonde hair -
Soft as baby’s breath on my fingertips,
Falls on your pillow like a feather.

I brush your cheek with a kiss.

I can not promise perfection.
I can not promise wealth.
I can not promise an easy road, son.

But I will never leave you–

This I promise.
True as promise can be.
True as you and me.
True as the sound my mother’s footsteps
As they echo down the hall
And out the door -

Ever silent -
Ever more.

Victoria 2007