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A cry echos as a childs first breath is taken in this world the joy in his mother the pride in his father
How heavy was I for 9 months? Was I a bothersome lodger? Did I ruin your sleeping pattern? Through my kicks and summersaults? As a toddler I ran around You chase and caught me with tickles
Young mothers are foolish Young mothers are whores Young mothers are helpless They've closed all their doors Young mothers are stupid They can not suceed And when they ask for help
Whence dost kindness of the absolute highest degree, shower those with no empathetic quality What cometh from cursing at the universe, for it dost naught but provide: light, air and nourishment
You are my woman, my dream, my desire You are my crown, my diamond, my jewel of inestimable value. Your emergence into my life brought me sunshine on a cloudy day
Missing her day by day, Only wanting her to hug me again. Though it's been almost 5 years,
I met a girl made of silver Her eyes shone like mirrors You could glimpse your soul in them But you could never match hers She told me about her dreams I looked the other way
A woman of Black gold, gave birth to an olive child, Strong and mighty was she to stand by a father who stood to just pretend. Made sure her little peice of hope in this world was warm, fed, and fast asleep everynight
It was more than a sacrifice Do not really know what it was But when my mom first held me in her arms It felt like the world was no longer dangerous I had the world at my feet.
Though from you I was not born Very little do you scorn Though normally well deserved I need not be reassured Off your unconditional love, So that when push comes to shove You will never leave my heart
With grace and power she stands there Light soothing hands with a maternal touch Gentle eyes that cut through glass and fair hair that falls upon her shoulders Dependable, she is everyone's crutch
An image by Ima Ríos I have an image on my mind. A memory. A memento. A picture that is yours. Yours and mine. Its about you, me and our love.
Why I write? I write because you told me to Because you encountered history and literature but never met a pen or page
There is nothing like nothing like a mothers love. Always there, always worrying, she always cares. Putting you before herself and anyone else. She won’t eat until you eat, won’t sleep until you’re safe and sound.