Cave of Treasures

A love, a memory, a habit,

Eyes of lunar luminance and

Fiery coldness-

This is what I remember,

This is what I know.


Urges to spend

Unnecessary packages, bottles, and boxes

Born in blood as red as foxes.

Occasionally reckless and not controlling

With fires to consume the lot

Those flowers wilt in the pot.  


Though quite demanding and critical,

A candle,

Organized in structure and stature

A balance hard to find.

A Gatherer, a Hunter,

Irresistible meals

The ironic tongue twists

To manifest humorous speech .


  Love is never too strong

No candle too bright,

No fire too consuming.

A Protector, Lover, and Guardian.


  I love my mom.


This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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