A Bouquet of Ivory

A mother’s gift

A small price for happiness
even with inflation.
A bouquet of flowery love
along with all the other bits
we need to munch.

A small price to pay
to look at the creases appear
on your cheeks.
One that I’ll dutifully front
as long as I have life
to play with you in the creeks.

Because the price of flower addiction
amortized over decades
of true love provides a tower
of infinite returns.

The small price to witness
your hearty laugh
at our oldest acting to provoke it
with silly songs
and wisecracks.

Nurtured by your unconditional love,
bents at her waist,
showering our youngest
with adoration
when she is looking up
with admiration.

A small price for the privilege
to see them smile;
a reflection of your image
even in your absence.

The same smile
you lavishly and carelessly
squander
on this world.

One of the last smiles
on this orbiting mass
without intention
nor expectations;

the purest smile
of ivory whites
arranged in a bouquet
of lovely formation.

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