Mother bakes a cake. The kitchen smells of fluffy vanilla bean with chocolate frosting. Cake so sweet your teeth will fall out. Making the treats watch as they fold in nicely. Mother ballroom glides through the kitchen, grabs the tray, sets it down in the living room. She looks past the field out of the horizon, the wisps of hair flow through the air, her hands soft felt like silk. She guides me through the thick grass, we spin through the grass. I wonder why she would make these cakes, however she made them with love. Mother knows the way to my heart and soul. She finds the most clever ways to bring life to the party of fireflies. I love the way she braids my curly hair, I watch play with sister , then I jump in with all the sweet laughter. Wondering what it would be like to be such a strong mother with courage to do what’s best for her family, to teach my own what my mother taught me would be a wish come true, though I think I’ll wait for the right time to even get to this point in life. The world's most powerful woman I know is you, mother.