The Void
Every night I would go to bed
And the last thing I would hear
Would be the sweet whisper of my mother’s voice
Filling my head.
Every night I would go to bed
And the last thing I would feel
Would be the sweet touch of my mother’s lips
Brushing against my forehead.
Every night I go to bed
Reaching and wanting the sound and feel of my mother
Searching and searching
For that sweet sound inside my head.
Every night I go to bed
Longing for the touch of my mothers lips
Which would put me to sleep
With their gentle graze across my forehead.
This poem is about:
My family