Dear Marmee.
There are things we
never
outgrow.
Like turning to
our mother when
we’re sick.
Coming home to
her, mad and crying
and cursing
the world,
when we’re
hurt;
Eager to
be inside
that kind,
comforting,
embrace--
priceless.
You tell her
of your
everyday’s, as
she muses, content
and nostalgic, with
both
uncertainty and
hope, and with
love, unconditional;
You feel,
You see,
Even across the
dreary
miles:
She
smiles,
and loves,
and saves.
And you just know.
There are things
she
never
outgrows.
***
Happy Mother's Day to my mom and to all mothers out there. =)
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