Thirteen Poems

I walked about, found a spot by a stream, if I recall correctly, it was nice outside, oh, so long ago, memory is hazy with only a few clear recollections, yes I think it was nice and the grass was green, had a bit of solitude. Wracked my brain, oh thirteen poems for thirteen years and each one to be written in honor of a family member.

And I had done this for all her four sons, written 13 poems to be recited by me in candle-lighting ceremony, 13 poems in a style not my own, yet my own words and thoughts, and yes, they would praise me, oh what a talent you have! My, my, isn't that wonderful! And I would smile and thank them, and no, I didn't mind doing it, why not do it, what else did I have to offer from my strange and silly life?

And I wrote by the stream, I think it was a nice sunny day, and I recall doing that, being in solitude and writing 13 poems and I did a poem each for various virtues and qualities, honor, love, courage, all that. Oh and yes, for the great event itself I wore a blue and white dress with full skirt, diagonal stripes of sky blue and white, I loved that dress, with white high heels and my hair was dark and long.

And it wasn't my style, nothing I'd ever write for myself, from my own inspiration, no it wasn't my style at all, but she said I had to do this, wouldn't be fair not to do it for all of them, so I wrote 13 poems and recited them aloud in my blue and white dress, to the flickering of candles, as 13 different honored relatives lit each one, in the temple, where he underwent ancient manhood rite of passage.