They told it would get better,
let time take it's course
they said.
Little by little it seemed.
because that's how it should be.
They told it will be bitter sweet,
In the end it's all
about the memories.
Little by little it worked.
because that's the way meant to be.
They told something new will take it's place.
Another meaning for
the broken void.
Little by little, it happened.
because in you, my mother I see.
In your little hands and little feet.
How it should be.
In your little smile and little cries.
How it meant to be.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
It's a colored, black and white picture
of her and me, years ago.
There is sorrow in her eyes
when she smiles for the camera.
As I lay my tiny cheeks
against hers.
She looks young, very young,
my mother.
She looks pretty, then and now,
she still is.
My tiny hands cling to hers.
Her hands hold me
out of the frame.
My eyes look elsewhere
while hers look straight,
with deep hidden meanings
at the camera,
at the man who takes it.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC