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[center][code]Where I lived – winter and hard earth.
I sat in my cold stone room
choosing tough words, granite, flint,

to break the ice. My broken heart –
I tried that, but it skimmed,
flat, over the frozen lake.

She came from a long, long way,
but I saw her at last, walking,
my daughter, my girl, across the fields,

in bare feet, bringing all spring’s flowers
to her mother’s house. I swear
the air softened and warmed as she moved,

the blue sky smiling, none too soon,
with the small shy mouth of a new moon. [/code][/center]

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[c=#9e2102]Gᴀʀᴅᴇɴ Wᴀʟᴋs Wɪᴛʜ Dᴇᴍᴇᴛᴇʀ[/c]

[code][center]Yesterday in my garden, I met Demeter,
bringing spring roses to bloom whilst I was wondering,
"How powerful is my mothers love?"

And she planted a kiss on my forehead and answered,
"When Persephone, my child, was stolen from me,
I plunged the world into darkness,

not a flower was allowed to bloom or grow.
When she returned, I brought the whole earth
back to life, everything bathed in sunshine.

That is what mothers love can do.
It can bring winter in all its fury,
or summer in all its purity.[/center][/code]

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