my mom

If I am her sky,
she is my sun.

Warm,
bright,
and
ever present.

Even in the darkness,
I am comforted knowing
she is there,
always there,
even if I can’t see her
or feel her.

While I play
loud and strong
on my drums,
she walks
quiet and soft
in the woods.

She looks for birds,
marks them in her book,
and finds joy in
discovering the new.

Peace and quiet,
two things she loves.
Noise and rhythm,
two things I love.

But as the sky
and the sun coexist,
each needing the other,
it’s the same with
me and my mom.

Sometimes, love is loud.
Sometimes, love is quiet.

Always, love is my mom.