Make a Rhyme for Teacher, Mom — (1970)

"Make a rhyme for teacher, Mom," my littlest in pink nightgown asks

as she scurries from my desk, brown eyes flashing, winsome, so artfully coy

"Pick up your toys. NOW!!"   my response to her bedtime ploy,

as she skips on down the hall clutching teddy bear and story book

about a sun that would not set and a magic talking fish.

                                        "Make a rhyme for teacher mom."

                                          That was her bedtime wish.

What to say to teacher . . . I wonder, as I watch her go

this child who'd been my baby, just a few short years ago

who for singing songs or tumbling, her chores would gladly chuck.

What to say to teacher? Well, I guess . . . "I wish you luck."

Angela — (2001)

Just like your mother those 30 odd years ago dancing down hallways

dreams at your dainty fingertip

you trip . . . 

pick yourself up, glance 'round to check if anyone saw your tumble, twirl. . .

start the dance anew

(for Professor Claire)

dishes done, children bedded, settled in my den,

comes the scream to break the stillness, shatter this silent reverie. . .

      "Eeeek, Mommy, a flying roach. . . kill him Mommy, please!"

I'm sorry roach, I really tried to save you - took the book to which you clung

 and flung it out the door, but you insisted on flying back  to terrorize her more,

                  and so, you had to go. . . surely, you must know,

         "Eeeek, Mommy, a flying roach. . . kill him Mommy, please!"  

                                                 meant more.