The following is a poem written about motherhood.
I'm told that I am part of a vanishing breed,
A homemaker, mother, but more, I must plead.
An actress I've been, convincing, I'm sure,
Plus teacher, nurse, confessor, chauffeur.
They've blossomed before me, like flowers did grow,
Savor in each second, I bask in a glow.
The little league champ, a chubby young lad,
Now stands tall and lean, college dorm is his pad.
Mark Spitz in the pool, the best in his class,
He whips through the water, head shaven -alas.
And listening to tales of a generation gap,
I smile at his words, "Hey, ma, wanna rap?"
The curly-haired tomboy, eye blackened, jeans clad,
Now a gracious young lady, addicted to fad.
Florence Nightingale she, helping others her bag.
Her smile is like sunshine, her radiance her flag.
Petite and demure, perfectionist, too.
Adventuresome, anxiously exploring things new.
The tiny young fingers which my hand would squeeze
Now flutter like lightening over ivory keys.
Sarah Bernhardt and genius she labels herself,
A princess, a poet, a love able elf.
The best she must be, the star of the play,
Fiercely determined to have it no other way.
They grown each uniquely, as well it must be,
And I marvel that God entrusted this job to me.
Locked in my memory like some prize I have won,
I've treasured each moment-regrets I have none.
No other profession such joy can impart
As that of motherhood, a call from the heart.
Eleanor Bongiorno
circa 1982
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