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I teach her to paint flowers. I play cards with her. I wheel her outside in her wheelchair. In the warm, sunny air. I show her I care. While my dear mother in Heaven looks down and smiles. I smile too. And then. Shed a tear.

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Written by

elizabeth-gaye-trondsen

For You?

Written by

elizabeth-gaye-trondsen

Published

Mar 24, 2019

Time

1m

Notes: My beloved mother always wanted me to work with the elderly. This poem is for her. I miss you, Mom.

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