garden

On the occasion of my first Mother's Day
(last year not fully counting because he was still inside me).

When you were planted
in my belly,
in my heart,
I showered you
with more love
than I knew I had.
Your roots spread
and sprouted
tiny toes
which tickled me
inside and out.
And with the harvest
your mother was born.

I thrive on you.
Your love,
your need,
for me -
the way you wrap your arms
around my neck and
rest your head on
my shoulders -
keeps my petals
warm and soft.
Every smile,
giggle and grin,
every burst of
uncontrollable, ticklish laughter,
keeps my blossoms vibrant.
And though tears and illness
cause a part of me to
sadly wilt,
the way you bounce back
with such forceful happiness
sparks the strong in me
and I recover too.

You grow
and I grow.
You blossom
and I blossom.
I am the gardener
and you are my garden.
(Or do I have that
backwards?)
I created you
and you created me.
You are my child
and I am your mother.