OUR FINGERS ENTWINED LIKE RIBBONS OF LIGHT. It was her gentle touch when I was little that taught me how to love. It was her kind words that taught me how to care. It was her comfort when sad and her laughter when happy. She’d been there from my birth but, as we grow older, we learn nothing mortal will live forever.
Her face grown old, her touch no longer strong, I watch her making her age-worn way no longer spry. Another Mother’s Day and I treasure the moments I know can’t last. It was her who now needs my hand to help her along her way.
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April 13, 2013 at 03:26
What a beautiful tribute to a Mother’s undying love.
It is so poignant when this cycle comes full circle.
Tearing up here.
April 13, 2013 at 19:13
Thanks for the comment.
The story isn’t fictional. It’s part of my life. She is 82. 🙂