The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Mother's touch

I never would have believed
the depth of your love for me,
until having my own children
and embracing them tenderly.

Loving me, like I love them
if even only half as much,
trusting finally it is infinite
this feeling of your touch.

Nurturing tenderness and love
as my entire life I owe you,
fits my spirit like a glove
I am sorry I never told you.

In my eyes you are the best
You are simply amazing mom
I see so much of you in me,
still I have much to discover
on this journey of destiny.

Learning to fully appreciate you
crept up with gray hair and age,
our chatty visits are relished
spiced to perfection with sage.

I love you immensely very much,
trusting voice, your eyes and skin,
warm hugs, smile and mostly touch,
carrying your genes always within.

My genuine hope of fulfillment
I do trust it is never too late,
is to peek in the mirror one day
and foresee my trusting fate.

Achieving my dreams and goals
which do constantly better me,
hoping that in my finest hour
I see your face looking back at me.

Glow of your perfect reflection
etched into my thoughts eternally,
and a nod of your proud approval
that I managed to mature gracefully.

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