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Daughters
by LaVonne Boruk
Mama taught her daughters to be ladies
to make beds, wash dishes, and sing
not supposed to fly, but when mama fried
chicken, she saved for me the wing.
Mama wanted her daughters to grow up
to dance to the big bands that swing
and marry a fine hometown gentleman
for Sunday dinner she gave me the wing.
I cooked, and ironed, and did windows
ere mama knew it I'd turned sweet sixteen
mama didn't want me ever to leave home
after school I found on my plate a wing.
Flying was not meant for young women
I refused to put my heart in a sling
mama never gave me a drumstick
on my plate there was always a wing.
Shy and naïve, determined to succeed
a knight in shining armor wasn't my thing
I shuffled the cards and dealt from the heart
to wend my way I'd only a prayer and a wing.
Mama taught me the basics of being a lady
and tried to keep me tied on her string
I broke loose and flew, mama never knew
what she'd done when she gave me the wing.
©1999 LaVonne Boruk
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