The journey began when son became man,
And daughter had found her own way,
Dust had befallen that old frying pan,
Sad pall of sad mother’s d’pressing dismay,
What’s this? No hand wave ‘mid confetti rain,
No chest leaning sprint through finish line tape,
Just dark denouement through chaotic pain,
That cannot be dulled by Chardonnay grape?
She set on grand quest to find her reward,
Golden object for years she’d been earning,
‘Twas stunning surprise, the more she explored,
With each step ‘long this journey she’s learning,
No endings exist; she could wander the Earth,
Just freedom, beginnings, and hope of rebirth.
- Scott Alexander McKenzie