I often wonder what my mother thought
about me, and if she had any ideas or wishes
for who and what I might grow up to be?
She has long since departed this life, and may
have been be amazed. An artist and writer?
Well perhaps, but not one of fortune and fame.
Nothing against you personally, she might say,
but in my experience I have never known one
of those who had it made financially.
And chances are, perhaps you’ll turn out to be
a salesman like your father, a waiter at a restaurant
or a stock clerk at a grocery store.
Bet Mom never expected that I'd be writing a poem
someday about what her dreams for me may have
entertained.
A good boy generally, she might say, but a poor
performer insofar as his academics in school goes.
Not voted in class as “the most likely to succeed.”
Great Expectations makes a good title for a movie,
she might have said, but not likely an aspiration in
a lifetime for the likes of you and me.
I can see into her wistful eyes looking down on
me, as she hopes for the best. Now go and wash
your hands, she would likely say…
It’s almost time for dinner.
-30-
Chris Hanch 5-1-19 (Revised 5-1-2021)
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