DEDICATION TO MOM
Tears trickle down my face,
As I reach for and hold your hand,
I've come to this cold, sterile, place,
To try to make you understand.
You grasp tightly as you clutch my wrist,
When its time to go, I have to pry,
But you whole heartedly insist,
So all I can do is run and cry.
Time after time, I go back,
It gets harder and harder,
To try to talk and take to task,
You not remembering your own granddaughter.
You sit in silence,
Not remembering how to talk,
And it grates on my conscience,
That you can't remember how to walk.
Memories, of days gone by,
Might filter through your mind, who can say?
As I sit with you and wonder why,
All you remember is what time has washed away.
©2005 Myc Blackie Productions, all rights reserved
By macwriter
© 2005 macwriter
(All rights reserved)
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