Mama, you're so nice
Would you like to roll the dice
And if you do
I hope you land on two
You will win a prize
And when you get your prize
You'll see something in my eyes

Beautifully simple and simply beautiful. This reminds me of myself at that age, how I wrote and how I felt about my own mother; we used to play games together too, since we were just the two of us against the world... or the world seemed against us, more accurately. But we survived somehow, and had a lot of fun. I am still here, now alone, after all these years, while she has gone on to a better place, to share in the laughter of the immortals; having rolled the dice and landed on two, she won the prize. And everyone can see something in my eyes, now that she has gotten it: the kindness she modeled, lived, and taught me made us both winners. That is the gift I give my children (of all ages) too.

The trick is to never grow up, to never become cold and cruel and hardened, but to keep your eyes and heart and mind open always; one has to stay a child to be a poet.

Thanks for sharing this, Jo. Your eight year-old is a poet, to whom I send my respect and solidarity.

Love to you both,

+Stevie