When I was born
torn from the magic world
crying so loud
You gave me breakfast
you held my hands
When young and so free
letting me be me
when ever tears fell
cooking me breakfast
you held my hands
When a soldier coming home
I screamed at night
you told me everything would be all right
You cooked me breakfast
you reached across the table
held my hand
When a successful man
wanting to give
you told me
you are why I live
you cooked me breakfast
and while I ate
you held my hand
I see you cannot walk
we drink coffee
you like to talk
we cook breakfast
I reach across the table
We hold hands
I cook you breakfast
I help you move
I sit you down
I try to not be sad
I reach across the table
we hold hands
There you are
you might be dead
but I always know
I shall not be alone
Mom is always
Holding my hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem