In my arms

My immature mistakes

The consequences that they bore

The seeds that they did plant

When decisions left life sore.

The children of my womb

The apples of my eyes

The solace they did bring

The million woes and sighs

The life and purpose that they made

Their love remains my home

A million reasons given me

For a gypsy not to roam.

Now children with their children

The generations grow

And all the things I thought I knew

That I really didn’t know.

I made my bed and now I lie

In sheets so taught and firm

Discomfort that in my youth

Had made me wriggle, itch and squirm

Now, I’m wrapping and swaddled tightly

in comfort so divine

I reach back in my memories

And praise what has been mine.

The screams and shouts and drama

The laughter, hope and fun

The home with children in my arms

Would have surely be undone,

Without the naive windfalls

brought by haughty, vain pursuits.

All of my past endeavors

aimed to plunder, steal and loot

Provided me now with patience, hope, love, joy and peace

All of which I never aimed for, but I pray will never cease.