Mist of Life.

It all started the day you were born,

Your father held you in his arms and looked at you and thought

"Your so beautiful and that fresh smell of baby flesh,

He gently put you back in your cot and watched as you sucked your thumb,

He was so full of pride he didn't know the best was yet to come.


The years passed and you became a young woman aged 18 with a figure any of todays

beastly girls would kill for, And your face and hair all just perfect,

Many a mans head would turn as they stared!!! Yes at 18 you had the lot.

Now you're old and in the nursing home in your peace you sleep

the body has changed and so has your looks,

Grey hair has replaced that what was so long and fair.

Now you sleep most of  your time and all i can do is hold your hand and stare,

The girl that once had the lot is now leaving this world behind.


Her final minutes spent in her adult cot,

Ive this box of pictures of you and your life, everything from birth to you becoming

a wife.

Your time and effort you gave to me when you decided your time had come and i made

you a mum.

All these memouries i'll lock in my minds box so i can look at them in private when ever

i like

and i'll label the box "THE MIST OF MY MUMS LIFE;





Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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