A trickle of moisture streams down my cheek,
Been going on now… for about week,
Don’t know why it happens or why they appear,
That little trickle of moisture, called my tears
Don’t feel like it started from something I’d thought,
Then again, I sometimes don’t realize what a thought had brought,
A memory of a time so very long ago,
Maybe thinking of all the years I’d wasted so.
Whatever the reason for my eyes moistures release,
I guess I’ll just accept it and not cause it to cease,
For it’s a reminder to me when they start to fall,
That I can remember those times past with you …remember them all.
Those times I’d fallen and skinned my knees,
And how you made the pain go so quickly away,
With a kiss and a hug, and a careful bandage placed,
And most of all… the feel of a mother’s undying love.
Or the nights you came and read me my favorite books,
And how much time in any given day that must have took,
But somehow found always that special time for me,
To sit at my bedside …my favorite stories you’d read.
You’re old and frail now…and don’t remember me that well,
But that’s alright mom…for I’ll never tell,
I’ll play along and now at your bedside sit,
Telling you my stories…and just spending time with you… to reminisce.
By: Linda Winchell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely loving ode. Perfectly penned. -chuck