Under her outstretched arms do I stand,
Nestled in her reach, I place my head,
her touch, motherly and gentle.
I begin to speak of some friends, in various places,
bound and wounded.
Other’s knotted hard knocks give way to my own bounded bindings.
Everything gets told because she has the gift of easy listening.
One simple word,
and that she echoes
from the store of treasures in her heart.
July 1, 2018
Photo by Eunice and Becca at the faith and peanut butter blog.