There will be no little hand
Curled around my thumb,
No soft mouth suckling
In hungry thirst.
I will never kiss your cheek
Or miss you when you’re out to play.
There will not be a card coloured
Wishing Happy Mother’s Day.
There will be no soft little smell
Wrapped in my arms and soul,
No bright pure eyes gazing
At the world to meet.
No plasters for your falls
Or stories boundlessly shared.

There will be no mother in me for you,
But not because I never cared.