A poem of love and worry for my daughter. |
Looking at Tomorrow My time is growing shorter; I feel the chilling wind between this world, the next, the one with no end. I have had some sorrows, some pain and some woe but now my life is over; it is time to go. My deepest sorrow, my greatest fear when contemplating my death so near Is leaving her, my only child, alone down here in this world so wild. It's not that she has none to care shes a wonderful mother, always there but, as most of us know, there is none, no other who loves us as much or as dearly as mother. Who will she call when SHE needs to know to listen or just understand what's so? who will reach out to hug and touch, to hug for no other reason than the motherly tug? This bothers me much, and I pray to God maybe you'll pay more attention to MY little baby. Grown woman, yes, no need to smother but always, always, we long for mother. Not that I was so special; I wish I had been I made mistakes and cried each time when I failed her or angered or didn't have enough of whatever she needed when the going was tough. Still, I feel the bond grow thicker like mud, shoulder to shoulder with child of my blood. I can't help but worry how lost will we be When the physical link has broken free. When loving your own, I hope this is clear, that you'll remember MY baby when I'm no longer here. She's a lovely grown woman, not like any other. Take it from me, her loving mother. |