I was never very polite.
That didn’t make you a bad mom.
I did, however, learn how to write.
I can also sing you a song.

My brother called late last night,
Asked, “did I forget or just not care?”
In all honesty, I forgot.
The greatest gift you could share.

The pain has dwindled, for now.
Gangly grief withdrew to the depth.
I always took what you’d allow,
Disrespectful girl, “no” won’t accept.

Lady-like was not my thing.
Un-Gracious girl, you’d say uncouth.
I like to think the gift I bring,
Is decisiveness and wit from youth.

Mother may I have your pardon,
For rarely doing what I was told?
Learning to gingerly tend this garden.
What I lack in grace, make up for in bold.