Mother

 

On her deathbed, her last gasp, I love you,

Holding my mothers hand, I cannot reply,

I could never reply.

 

We never said those words, we never touched,

So many of us, carry a burden,

I carry this burden.

 

From a mother to a son, why was I not the one?

From a son to his mother, why was I not the one?

To myself and no one else, I miss you.

 

(Stoic)

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