Oct 3, 2007

THE MOTHER


In my dreams every night you come,
When i watch, it's my dear mom.
But the moment i sit up with eyes open wide,
I start to weep when she isn't beside me.
Then i go out just to think
About how she would chatter over stony ways.
And bubble into eddying bays.
I remember her sweet laughter,
And God who is her creater.
The eyes that ever shone,
Like the fresh and green lawn
Now that i am far,
I feel like one who treads alone,
Like one whose lights are dead
And happiness fled.
Mom, who i wish
I could be a special dish,
To be served for you
And only FOR YOU.

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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

mast nice

Anonymous said...

This is a beautifull poem. It brought tears to my eyes.

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