far from the tree

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”