Before, now, after

VERA BONNY RUBY

There I thought you were a bee
who would sting and pride away,
who would buzz through cobwebs
I thought you didn’t know the sky’s color

You are as soft as morning rain
a sweetened piece of rock like candy.
in your memoirs you are a prisoner
forgive yourself. A clay still cracks

you’d be a rispetto, haiku and a rondeau
a great mother, daughter and a perfect lover
in your many eyes you will heal
and no more will you worry about scars that are not wounds.

Ruddapoet