A Timeless Promise

I cherish those bedtime tales of yore,

Where stories kissed my cradle, forevermore,

Before the midnight crow would softly caw,

My mother's arms would twine me, free from flaw.

In her embrace, my tiny face would rest,

As soothing tales unraveled, at their best.

The Israelites' journey through Egypt's plight,

Echoed in her voice, a beacon in the night.

"Perhaps tomorrow or the day that's next,

None knew the time," my mother softly text,

To my young ears, she whispered words of grace,

A timeless promise, in that warm embrace.

Now her hair's turned gray, a sign of time's flow,

My oranges, once young, have begun to grow.

Mature bugs and trips now come to partake,

In the story of our lives, at dawn's break.

But our tale's not over, we must believe,

In pages yet unwritten, we'll perceive.

A new chapter, perhaps, a Moses near,

To lead us to a future free from fear.

Perhaps this election or the next in line,

The moment's unclear, but hope's a sign.

In this story, united, we shall stand,

As we await the Moses, hand in hand.

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