These lines, my gift to you
Only words and you have your own
But I am sometimes a poet
(Though mostly a giver of PowerPoints)
And words are what I have
And perhaps no worse than a drum solo
For a nursing mother.
(Are these arts so different? The heart
Is vulnerable to bullet points too)
So. May your heart be as hard as it needs to be
Your Christmas cake softer than your teeth
Your family warmer than your office
Your writing swifter than your life.