Mother poem

Around the globe, you search
      for two dots, connected
  by a flight line. Distance
becomes a long string
                    to knot nostalgia;
Fingers nudge a blue
         sphere – home beckons
                   like an aching moon.
You surprise me, drawing
concentric circles. Your pen drifts,
               traces solar systems,
     that revolve around the same point —
                     you say, that’s our home!
Laughing at your crazy map,
I prune our family tree.
All of a sudden, a wind blows.
I see rings rippling       across
            your gray hair,
        and leaves fall to roots.

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