First Mother's Day

by The Hearth Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

The baby sleeps through breakfast. Your coffee cools untouched. A card leans open by the fruit, full of words too polished for this milk-stained morning. You are learning love is mostly unfinished: a song without its ending, a bath interrupted, the same small sock found everywhere. Still, she wakes and knows your voice. For today, that is the whole poem.
60 words · 13 lines · Free Verse
motherhoodbabyMother's Dayimagerymetaphorunderstatementfree-verse

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