Poetry

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The most important thing my mother gave,
Is something I call strings,
Little threads of happiness
That tie so many things,
It takes strings to make the fabrics,
The very clothes we wear,
And strings to make the instruments,
To play the songs we share,
Strings help us work together,
To do the things we do,
Without the strings called laces,
We couldn’t even tie our shoes,
I see them all around me now,
Helping me measure who I am,
Binding our hearts together,
As I struggle to be a man,
They help me build my future,
And stay connected to my past,
They help to pull me backward,
If I start to run to fast,
They have a priceless quality,
The ability to mend,
Even when you break them,
In an instant they will mend,
But the most important lesson ever learned,
About these special strings,
Is using my mothers loom of love,
To weave a pair of wings,
Wings of strength and wisdom,
On which to catch the air,
To rise so high above the earth,
And take me anywhere,
Strong enough to weather storms,
And shield me from the sun,
But no matter how big and strong I get,
I will always be her son,
God has truly blessed me,
With many songs to sing,
The one I love and treasure most,
Is the one that I call strings.

Larry Wayne Hill 2004

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