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Davide Castel Davide Castel
Recommendations: 39

She is not my mother


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A repost because it is Mother's Day this Sunday, so it is a reminder to appreciate our Mothers while we still have them.


Written before Mamma died 7 years ago and have
since added another paragraph, a few years ago.


I look at her face, so wrinkled, tainted
Her hair in disorder, tricoloured, painted
The clothes she wears, dishevelled, dirty
Her body shrunken, her fashion, uncertain
She is not my mother.


My mother was beautiful, so strong and alive
She gave me her love, and faith in mankind
For me she was the earth, the spring in my life
Gave birth to a seed, then watered with pride
She was my mother.


I now face this stranger, that’s all she seems
A woman so frail, in her winter of dreams
I know for a fact, in the garden she’s been
To potter and plant in her vision for summer
No, she is not my mother.


I grew to be strong, she showed me the way
Nurturing came naturally, from love each day
A talented seamstress, she dressed us with pride
We children her prized models, she, stood aside
This was my mother.


Her stories were wonderful, she gave us joy
I grew with imagination, no need for toys,
She sang like an Angel, her voice so sweet
Creating happiness, harmony, oh what a treat
Now that was my mother.


Why do I pretend, when I see her like that?
What am I thinking of, I must face the fact
That age waits for no-one, I am her daughter
Too young to understand, yet her best supporter
Who was my mother?


The years have now passed; I wished I was like her
If only I had known, what was she going through?
She suffered in silence, but loved us to the end
Now, I am the grandmother, her child, why pretend?


That I am just like my mother!


       ------------------------------------


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