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peggy boone Feb 2014
Her face is no longer smooth,
it is lined by time.
Even if she no longer looks the same,
she is still that dear mother of mine.
She has always given herself to me,
mothing was I ever denied.
She laughed when I laughed,
she comforted me when I cried.
There is no one like her,
I don't think there will ever be.
No one means as much to me,
as she.
To me, it doesn't matter what she looks like,
I guess it is a matter of pride.
For the things that make her the most beautiful,
are the things she has inside.
I wrote this poem in 1992, when my mother was gong under surgery for cancer. Today, she is 93 and cancer free.
Mark Rubilla Jul 2010
The moon is watching you tonight.
Every steps that youve made are capture n his eyes.
When i watch over him, i sigh and so jealous
Coz he sees you clearly

I miss you my dearest
I wish i am there with you
Singing songs with the star at night
And sharing memories that we have treasured

But this is all partial, we are separated
Im here and you are there
If only i can travel the worldl
Like the speed of the light
I will do so, for i always wanted
To meet you face to face

And you and i will wait wherever we are
Until the time is right, the place is set
And ready to be reap the seed that God
Planted within our hearts
And we together water it with
Love and transparency to each other

— The End —