One From My Rib

Moma, your words are unmatched— Deep and cutting, I will press them into the wounds of my heart And seal them there. If I ever let them escape, I would die with them. They are sharp, yet they heal. They speak hope and joy. They fill the empty space in my ribs and arms. They are warm—born from a good heart— And they draw me closer to you. Thank you for trusting my love, For believing in the dream we can become. I will be the jar that fills you, And you will be the basin that receives, Only to pour back into me when I am empty. You will multiply the little I give with love, You will keep my hope alive, You will keep me rich— Not in gold, but in the home we build. I am forever grateful for a woman so rare, So wow that words are too small. I shall remember and love you always. You are mine—one from my rib, One from my blood, One of my flesh.