536. kathy

a mother is a lighthouse,

rarely leaving her shore.

anchors sunk in tradition,

sails pulling to explore.

her eyes can span the journey,

illuminating skies and sea.

but destinations call her bluff.

and sometimes up the ante.

her steps are often rocky,

like coral beneath the blue.

a fresh water heart compass

navigate her through saltier views.

lighthouses hold a secret

when times find them chartless

they know deep in their spirit:

no tide could waiver a fortress.