Any day
When mothers
die
Our worlds
Stop turning
We begin to cry.

Mothers do
not fade
and die
They live
with you
With
love
inside.

Mothers whom
We hold dear
They do live
In every tear.

When we cry
She’s still there
Thoughts
of her
We must share.

My mum still lives
Inside my prose,
She’s in
the wind
When the
cold winds blow,
She can never ever part
Our mothers are,
Our beating hearts