I never say it,
I really can't show ,
Though I always mean it,
But welcome to now
I do love you,
From every wrinkle,
And oh yes I do,
To every crinkle
You're a great mother,
Even without your hair,
You shaped me a brother,
So proud, to even share
If I do manage to send,
Know this poem doesn't end
My mother's cancer count went from 2 all the way to 700 within a week. She spoke as if she's terminal, so I guess she joined my libriary of life
