Sonnet for Mother
By Shawn R. Jones
Her arms are walnut brown and warm like June.
Veins wind like vines around an oak tree branch.
My adversaries do not stand a chance
against her heart that holds sunlight at noon
with pride in me that’s fuller than full moons
and love for me that makes my child heart dance.
Though doubts rain more doubts on my circumstance,
Past lullabies still hush me in my room.
And now that I have children of my own,
Mom’s fairy tales are just a memory
with golden eggs of young simplicity,
yet I adore her more now that I’m grown.
And even though we sometimes disagree,
only God could love me more than she.