Yours was the only face I saw
in that crowd on the concert stage
all clad in performance black and white.
Of all those splendid singers,
yours was the only voice I heard—
the voice I have loved for so long,
no matter what it was saying.
Surrounded by a golden aura
I saw the face of my firstborn,
my lovely daughter, now grown,
humble and proud, independent,
mainstay of her own family,
mother of her own shining daughter,
like her mother and her mother’s mother
and all the generations of mothers
who brought us into the world.

And now at last I fully understand
the pride in my own mother’s eyes
as she heard her teenage daughter
sing from the Carnegie Hall stage
more than half a century ago.

©2009 Dorothy Miller Gutenkauf