The following is an excerpt from a poem written for his mother, a gift woven in words.

When I was but a little girl
I made myself a promise,
To rear my children with dignity,
Teach them to be honest.

But first, I had to grow,
Endure lots of pain,
Survive the throes of ghetto woes
Time and time again.

Things would not come easy,
At times I felt like crying,
Determined to gift-wrap the world
Or willing to die trying.

Winter boots and Easter suits
And summers filled with glee.
Never mind if I was suffocating,
As long as my kids could breathe.

So, I toiled by day and learned by night
Lunched on rice and bread.
Wore my children’s hand-me-downs
Just to get ahead.

I cooked and cleaned and in between
Encouraged my children to strive.
I scraped and clawed but through it all,
My eyes stayed on the prize.

Destiny for me was simply
Duty without break.
If asked to do it all over again,
I would not hesitate.

See, all I ever wanted
Was the life I never had
Served to my babies
In the absence of their dads.

I wanted to show them through persistence
They could have it all,
What matters most is how we rise,
Not so much how we fall.

My kids are now grown with kids of their own,
Some of those kids with child.
Some day when my story is told,
I hope I’ve made them proud.

All we have to offer the world,
The legacy we leave behind.
I pray all mothers love their children
As much as I love mine.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Terry Robinson often writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’ and is a co-author of Crimson Letters, Voices From Death Row. The above is only an excerpt from a poem he wrote for his mother who has been his biggest supporter. Terry continues to work on his memoirs, as well as a book of fiction. He has always maintained his innocence, and hopes to one day prove that and walk free. Mr. Robinson can be contacted at:
Terry Robinson #0349019
Central Prison
4285 Mail Service Center
Raleigh, NC 27699-4285