Mom Set No Limits Poem by gordon francis

Mom set no limits
when it came to playing with the stars,
groping, handling, as in darkness,
yet alight with anticipation.
She said little
when I copied from star to star
testing the air currents
rebounding shakily from the one
only to land safely on another.
No one else could see me.
I was too far removed
from Earthlings,
as I wagered and risked
and risked and wagered
and thought,
sometimes incongruously,
of the subtlety of stars,
no two alike,
yet all seemingly alike.
Oh, I burnt my hands
with their fires,
but scars on skin evaporate
and new skin grows.
Even the scars on the mind and soul
somehow mended themselves,
with mom's help
and patience
and care
and love...
I still search out stars
still copy from time to time
still long for new stars.
But many of the old stars
are permanent
and blend nicely with the new
to form a wholeness of life.