Mother

There is a woman close to me.

I've known her all my days.

She makes me raise my eyebrows

With her "interesting" ways.

Sometimes she is quite normal.

Many people call her friend.

She gets along with everyone;

Tries hard not to offend.

Her favorite food is chocolate.

She likes the color blue.

She has a love for animals.

To Jesus, she is true.

A writer of fine poetry.

Her verses often rhyme.

She likes iambic rhythm

In a syncopated time.

Her emotions overcome her

In a tender circumstance

She cries at sappy movies,

Loves to watch a good romance.

But not everything about her

is as perfect as can be.

With all her little quirks

She can drive you up a tree.

Odd faces, silly nick names,

Funny songs she loves to sing.

She talks too loud and much;

She can be embarrassing

 And often she’ll confound you.

She’s as loony as a toon.

Her reason comes and goes

with the phases of the moon..

Wait a minute I’m confused;

A conundrum I can see.

Is the reflection in that mirror

Of my mother or of me?

National Poetry Writing Month, day 11

Prompt: Mother