I'm sorry I gave up on building
The plastic ships you bought me.

But I promised myself
When my impatient hands had smashed them all,
That someday I would pay you back.

And when night demons stole my dreams,
I had only to call your name.

Your hands
And a cool glass of water
Could make even darkness bearable.

Because I wanted so much to be braver for you.

But, Mother, I'm afraid
I can never pay you back.

There are no gifts to equal memories
Carefully pasted in scrapbooks.
And were I to sell my very soul,
Its profit would be a pittance
Next to Your bestowal.