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This scent, this soft
sweater, both lavender,
on my skin.
I don’t know
where I got them—just picked them up
somewhere on the journey—gifts
along this path of stones
with sun, partly obscured, glinting
off miles of crushed fool’s gold—
my eyes squinting
in the dark
until the true rush—
treasure, shining.
This scent mingles
with memories of breast milk
on my babies’ breath,
fresh soap on their skin—
and that old quilt
from when I was young.
I wish I had it here now.
Purple, storied, some patches
tearing away.
I’d lay it down,
drink the wine of your lips,
pull our stories around us,
fool’s gold abandoned—
as our children are tearing away,
the lights of their own stories—
quilts unfolding.
Us, gold, rich.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
As a mother, nothing delights me more than seeing my sons thrive and follow their dreams. This year is a big one for each of them with significant upcoming milestones. What’s best is they all have such good hearts. True gold. I am overwhelmed with gratitude to see who they are becoming as men, as lights.
"drink the wine of your lips, / pull our stories around us / fool’s gold abandoned" Indeed! With so much real gold in your life, what use have you for the false stuff? Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteWhat a unique take on the prompt, Jennifer.So many images. I really like "the lights of their own stories."
ReplyDelete"Gifts along this path of stones." How I love that! And the drawing of the quilt of memory around you, rich with the trajectory of your sons' bright passage. Just beautiful, Jennifer. Truly.
ReplyDeleteI love the gentle and reflective ideas about light - along with some beautiful imagery - Jae
ReplyDeleteSuch happy and rich memories are so full of light! A wonderful take on the prompt, Jennifer.
ReplyDeleteI love the glitter of your poem, Jennifer, and the lavender scent of the lavender sweater, and these lines resonated with me:
ReplyDelete‘fresh soap on their skin—
and that old quilt
from when I was young’.
The final lines made me tearful, even though it’s a very long time since my nest became empty.
a bit different memory of father's and sons on my side, but the wistful taste lingers all the same ~
ReplyDeleteI love the easiness of your poem. The lavender is soothing and healing. The quilt unfolding in the journey ahead.
ReplyDeleteOh, Jennifer, this is lovely. Your transformation of fool's gold, the memories of your children nursing mingled with that old quilt. I got a little shiver reading this! Thanks. Amy
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem, vivid and touching imagery.
ReplyDeleteRich indeed. Lovely stuff, Jennifer.
ReplyDelete