A time to birth my day
Is Mom dancing to my bed
with hugs and silly songs
She shines on me.
A time to birth my cleanliness
Is Mom drawing water and fluffing towels
with stories about a day we’ll love
She intrigues me.
A time to birth my curiosity
Is Mom finding books and papers
with new ideas for me to juggle
She expands me.
A time to birth my voice
Is Mom waiting for slow typing
with praise and pasted keepsakes
She hears me.
A time to birth my love
Is Mom finding a real daughter inside a shell
with a rhythm and peace that won’t give up
She envelopes me.
With Mom I am alive.