Results have come back, in good news they lack
Paper held in trembling hands
She hasn't a clue, as to what she should do
Tears forming watery bands

The child wonders on, where her moms hair has gone
She accepts 'cause she isn't the wiser
The mom dries her tears, and puts aside fears
The results? Well they didn't surprise her

Her form ever frail, her soft skin is pale
Her sanity nearing derailment
Her child is fair, with wind in her hair
But the mother's the one with the ailment

She pushes the swing, her daughter she brings
Gentle movements like a dancer
Soon to be dead, hood over her head
Mother has terminal cancer