she built
a simple nest
for her dreams
out of memories - some
held dear, and some not so
from the flotsam
and jetsam of an almost childhood,
the sparkle
and rust
and bits of wisdom
clutched for a while in tiny hands
and an untouched mind
before left
strewn in the wake
of another move
another town
but also from
the small scraps
of pale blue ribbon,
the poetry written on napkins,
the forever kind of love
of motherhood, and
girls on horses
that filled her heart
with hope...
