I wonder if my own mother

Ever really sees

All her man did for me

When he bought her a house

While considering everything

With such care

A place so rare

So beautiful for her worn eyes

To look at

Through window panes

Reflecting mountains through glass

A kitchen so amazing

So she could cook up all she wished to

While viewing such splendor

I wonder if she sees

A man expression of love

Knowing her pains

Needed reflection

And a place safe for her resurrection

Surrounded by beauty

A place full of duty

So she, filled with all her memories

Could fix what needed mending

I wonder

Does my own Mama see

Such love of a husband

So rare

So caring

To find her a nest

That she could fill with all

She wishes to remember

And a place that she could heal

All those wounds so tender

So she could find room

In her heart

For even me

I wonder

Does she even know her address adds up to a seven? Which is her own day of birth added together.

Does she even see

All that man did for me

By being so thoughtful

To my own Mama

Even down to carving

Out figures

To

Show her

Anything

Can be turned into

Something else all together.

Even us