Post by Deleted on May 9, 2007 21:32:20 GMT -5
okay, it's not poetry, it's not fanfic, I'm not sure what to call it. And, no, I'm not half as talented as all of you, but I wrote this on my blog today in tribute to my mother - feel free to join in, if you wish. Mouse, thanks for the kudos!
Not a day goes by that I don't think of you; that my heart aches without you here. I think of the perfume you wore and the Cadillac red lipstick. I laugh when I remember how we shopped together, and I would accuse you of adopting me because you were a size 6 and I am a size 10. Late night talks over a cigarette and tea, midnight sometimes 1 a.m. You were never at a loss of words with me.
I see my life now, 11 years after you left; "what would Mom do, what would Mom say" I recite to myself as my mantra. But I get my answer, in subtle ways. For I know now that you never did leave me; instead you journeyed to a place where you can guard me in ways you couldn't in this life and, as you welcomed me into this world, you shall be there to welcome me to into the next.
"I will never forget you, you are carved on the palm of my hand." [Isaiah 49] My mother, I am but a mere extension of you; you are everything I can only hope to be.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of you; that my heart aches without you here. I think of the perfume you wore and the Cadillac red lipstick. I laugh when I remember how we shopped together, and I would accuse you of adopting me because you were a size 6 and I am a size 10. Late night talks over a cigarette and tea, midnight sometimes 1 a.m. You were never at a loss of words with me.
I see my life now, 11 years after you left; "what would Mom do, what would Mom say" I recite to myself as my mantra. But I get my answer, in subtle ways. For I know now that you never did leave me; instead you journeyed to a place where you can guard me in ways you couldn't in this life and, as you welcomed me into this world, you shall be there to welcome me to into the next.
"I will never forget you, you are carved on the palm of my hand." [Isaiah 49] My mother, I am but a mere extension of you; you are everything I can only hope to be.
