My mother’s father gifted me a football and two hockey sticks
When my parents celebrated my turning six
I held on to these possessions
Until the ball was shapeless and the sticks were outgrown
Such memories are more precious now
Than anything I have done or I may own
Along with my children and their spouses
Who are making homes out of their houses
I have friends who talk about the shapes of their dreams
Write sweet notes, sing soulfully or share piercing poems
Some of them are my wonderful nephews and nieces
With their unspoilt minds, healing hugs and flying kisses
An ordinary life 