Like a true master you make your moves!
Well thought engineered, advances.
Spitting your way through each day.
Your whit like sharpened lances.
You words are spears, precisely thrown,
Each one a biting sting.
Meticulously over played
To enhance the pain they bring.
Your elfin smile masks your darker side
A side no one can fathom.
Deep in your duel personality
To you you’re a phantom.
Yet I hold you close and closer still
Allow the gaping wounds
I settle you in, each and every night
Knowing it will end soon.
Yet you make me smile with deepened pride
Your angst I tolerate.
To be reminded so much of me
But one day you will be great.
So when your teenage years have passed
When you look back and reflect.
Your mother was always there for you.
Then I will have your respect.
To see that tiny smile again
To forget the heart ache and woe
Will all be worth it in the end!
To see my child full grown.
By Helen Stallard