Tending Mother

In my memory,
I and my mother, chore in pain and screamed
While I cried through her womb
She smiles and embraced me
I wonder how chilly her blood to swing,
Through the whole nine months
And how could I not remember
Her struggle to raise me
Her discipline, and encouragement

Mother! Gown-in,
In your African fabric
And tell age to walk you through the further years
Gown-in, the modern age textile, so as we party and blow out the candle flame.