All Of It

 At nine years old, upon a train,
 She looked up from the book she held,
 To see the switchyard where they stood,
 As distant voices swore and yelled,

 While she, a suitcase by her side,
 "The Hundred Dresses" on her lap,
 Was trembling at this big new life,
 In this strange place, so far across

 The map
 An immigrant when young, her accent
 Seemed to shame her daughter;
 Who didn't know the "old country"
 Out there, across the water --

 While down behind the train yards,
 That same daughter's heart was racing
 With a boy she thought a hero, but
 Who saw her as

 A plaything
 My friend, I know he left you young,
 With those two children that you raised;
 I know you miss your mom a lot,
 And realize the trail she blazed

 But so have you, my friend. It's true
 When loved ones go, we feel their lack --
 But though life seems chaotic, we
 All end up on that one same track,

 That leads to where we have to go.
 So many stories none will tell
 About the good we meant to do
 And how "meant well" may not turn out

 That well

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