I have framed
your watercolors,
the “mother and child”
you painted
each Christmas:
Each one, a snapshot,
a moment in time,
the mother captured,
framed,
hanging onto that which
she must let go,
the infant painted,
clothed in love.

When you painted
on canvas or paper
at arm’s length,
your elbows out
asymmetrically,
you mirrored the shape
of a mother’s arms
when she cradles
an infant in her arms.

Gold leaf, carved wood,
raised floral trim,
this quiet moment,
framed, captured,
window
to a school
in love.