my mothers
tounge taps the tips of her teeth
as she talks
and her eyes linger as she ideates
the exact image
of the story she tells
you cant tell if she want to tell you
or
if she could be just as amused
by herself
her intricate imagery crafts
a scenery
and Its feels nice to be spoken to in
such a pretty way
but she could speak to anyone the way
she speaks to me
my mother
gives you time between her umms and
buts
to imagine, agree
and
almost interupt
but
if you were to
she would
ignore you
or yell because it cant be as
interesting as “how joe smith asked
her to prom”
20 years ago
sometimes I feel like shes more proud
of herself
than she is of her own daughter
but I think that her pride makes her
strength stronger
than anyone else I've ever met
thats just my mother
I cant tell you how much I love her
you see
I love that shes stubborn
like me
I take a lot of credence
with the saying
“the apple doesnt fall far from the
tree”
