My Mother Told me on one
Long, Hot Summer Afternoon
When she was Gravely Ill,

“You and Your Children are
The Ongoing of my Life.”

She Tipped her White, Beautifully
Coiffed Head Back into the Wing
Of her Favorite Armchair and Fell
Into a Gentle Sleep.

I Whispered, so as not to Disturb her,
“I will be Your Ongoing,
My Dear Mother. My Children,
Grand and Great,
Will be your Ongoing Forever
Through the Endless Branches of
Family Trees.”

The Centuries Wink and Nod at us
As they Hurry Past.