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The wind flaps as she knits a coat.
On a cold evening, whistling; me, a toddler, tagging her.
Every stitch bound with great love, to cover me.
Through stormy nights her heart never changed.
She carried me for nine heavy months,
And wiped tears to get me a home and bread
With honest hands of a lovely, caring touch.
She taught me to have good friends,
Respect all ages with no pain and gain.
Even through her pouring she is always there,
Listening to my storms with great understanding.
When my heart wanders and things fall apart,
When my soul aches and my spirit is shut, she is by my side.
I wish I could pay her back, for she colours my world.
But the least I can do is to love her more everyday,
And may I inherit just half her caring heart
As I strive to be the best she wished me to be.
Mama! I love you; you always touch my soul.
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Writer Profile
dave
Poetry is passion; my passion - It is the voice of the voiceless. I write poems through inspiration from day to day events and experiences in my life. With what happens in our society I hope to create awareness, inspire positive responses and in turn, learn from others.
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Comments
Supreme Eve Samuel K Akinbo | Apr 25th, 2008
Hmmm.. Mother is the pillar of the world, they hold us tight, even there word lingered in our memory when the night comes.. great one dave
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