Nothing will replace you,
The woman who gave me birth,
Your genes dance in me,
As genius or curse.

My love for you is endless,
Like a rippling stream,
It meanders in my heart,
Échos in my dreams.

I can still feel your touch,
The comb in my hair,
Holding my hand,
When nobody was there.

I recall your voice,
Clear as a bell,
Soft and gentle,
Wishing me well.

So , mother dear,
Know my love for you,
Always resides,
In a pocket or two.

In remembrance of my lovely Mother Grace Emily Ayton-Robinson