We had a Christmas/Liam’s Birthday/Kathy’s Birthday party yesterday evening at our home. I had decided this year that, instead of buying Kathy a present, I would write her a poem reflecting something of the admiration I have for the work she does as a Mom and a wife. Here it is:
She dances in the kitchen’s light,
Most fair of beauties given me;
Goes on to sketch a picture bright
With hope of One Day’s crystal sea.
She hews from youth’s misshapen stone
Fair forms of children, eager-eyed,
And writes the play in flesh and bone
Of years devoted, years denied.
Her poetry: from chaos, form;
A home made up of verse and rhyme
Well-kept with artful fingers, warm
With creativity and time.
Yet most remarkable of all
Her artist’s brush transforms my soul.
A model full of spite and gall —
She paints it, yet, as beautiful.