Poem #37: Upon Making Her 24th Valentine

Dearest Rose,
for whom finishing things
is always challenging, with the only blemish
on your folded report card:
Does not complete work on time!
angering you so. For a cardinal
out the window, the fire truck passing,
books waiting on shelves, adult
conversations with all those words,
and your little brother—everything that pulls
at you, like a never-ending tug-o-war.

But here you are, belly to linoleum,
elbow-propped, pencils and crayons rolling
out from you in every direction. Focused.
Project mode. Spread across the kitchen,
construction paper love for every friend
and all four second grade teachers—
not just your own! A sticker stuck in your hair,
pink fingers, black smudge across your face,
you carefully scribe messages like:
“You are the best math teacher in the world!”
You use up four green markers and boast
over this, and fret about Sarah, left off the list,
forgotten. You will give her half of yours!
Though it takes a full day, you finish
the 24th card. When it comes to giving,
you have no problem. Giving, always giving
away little pieces of your heart.
Love, Mom