The lady walks across the room
with dignity boasting on her shoulders
like a crown of locks
fashioned by the nurturing hands
of a thousand mothers
ancestral roots of royal eloquence
that extend longer than immemorial skies.
She floats in between prodigal sons
eclipsed from the urban wild
growing, uprooted men
as maternal instincts gravitate
her towards her own
son tries to sit motionless
but emotions flame
unfamiliar syllables in his body language.
Curiosity forms long creases
on his forehead that draws deeper
than someone's last breath spoken in a parable
because nostalgia clouds his sight
of a little boy of his likeness
walking beside his mother
a reflection in the mirror to the past
when life meant video games and sleepovers.
Tight, he embraces his mother
losing himself in an earthly warmth
a place where their souls had first met.
Tears, a therapeutic cleansing
loosens and undresses
the penal years of
an abnormal cost of living
as the child stares with wistful eyes
and a closed mouth full of:
are you my dad
when will I get tall
why can't you leave with us...
Their eyes dance in a tongue too emotional for words.
So he hugs his son, his heir
like a wedding band holds a promise:
never to unlock his bond.
Sitting at a table
that is small as their talk
short as their minutes allowed,
an officer makes it his duty to undermine their visit
like missing teeth ruin a smile.
With a blank finish, sadness
renders his face
and displays a growing man
who has misplaced his responsibility.
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