Amma's Eyes Poem by Deva De Silva

Urging spirited feet to jump higher
A pitchy voice counts 'One, two, three' on TV;
A treasure box opens with a groan.
'What is in there? '
Pennies, odd-shaped stones,
A bunch of dead leaves
And one more thing:
My mother’s kind eyes.

It’s full of riches
Only a five-year-old could gather,
Valued spoils that gave him joy.
'Do you have loonies in there? '
A vigorous shake of the head.
'No! All mine! '
Amma's eyes smile:
‘He is precious! ’
They say.

A whiff of an air-freshener
Disguising the musty odour
Coughs out its last breaths in foams
As a plump thumb squeezes its can
A flowery scent I’ve come to detest
Fills the room, choking me.
'Put that down! One- Two- Three! '
Amma's eyes probe mine:
'Be gentle! '
They say.

A soda can, kicked with an eager foot
Rolls tinkling to the wall
Where it halts in defeat
Leaving a trail of pink.
A glitter of mischief in my son’s eyes
'I won! ' He squeals.
A chanting in the air
As my two-year-old joins in
'We are winners! ' They sing
My mother’s eyes smile:
“They are precious! ”
They say.

Watching over me,
Sensing my loneliness
Among my worldly riches,
Loving her grandsons
She’d never met
My mother’s gentle eyes smile:
“It's true, they are winners! ”
We agree.