You know, you know,
The old tales she told,
About her mother and all,
Her sisters and bros,
The memories she held,
Her memoirs,
I miss her
A nasty morning breath,
Sugarless morning tea,
Eyes filled with sleep,
A wrapped hair,
Her sleeping clothes on,
And a voice I miss,
Hers
When the evenings dusked,
Herself with a bag,
With a signature scent,
And stories from work,
About how Grace,Peter and Emma were,
How the students needed her,
She fought for a good cause,
I wish to hold her
The Dinners had,
Food from her bag to feed us,
How she loved kales,
And little sprinkled salt,
The way she loved fish,
And a beer at hand,
Can I get one last chance with her
I miss her,
I miss her dearly,
I miss her voice,
I miss her touch,
I miss her energy,
I miss my late mother..
#Mom❤️
©shyl
S