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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1893666
A dark sonnet about a mother.
Her eyes lie closed to the life around her.
Her corpse remains horribly cold and still.
What I would give to see her shake and shiver
or speak as she once did, her voice so shrill.
I still see her lying there, worn and tired,
brave in the face of dangers unknown,
Looking like she had already expired.
Her courage was a bright beacon that shone.
Of course, I remember her pain
in her final moments of life on earth,
but oh, how I wish she could have remained
instead of passing away in child birth.
Although she is gone her legacy will stay
as her son is alive to see this day.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1893666-The-Mother