(Poem 281 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
His mama was a ninja
who went by different names.
She rescued anyone in need,
without hope of gains.
His mama was a ninja,
good with knives and swords and fists,
but she also made the best katsu curry
and gave lovely handmade gifts.
His mama was a ninja
who could scale any wall
and dance across a roof peak
with no risk of a fall.
His mama was a ninja,
a fierce protector cloaked by night,
so he grew up to believe in justice
and always fight for what’s right.
@Home Studio – 281st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Mama Ninja photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 