For my mother
I cannot bear to think of when you will be gone.
I do not understand how I will get along.
Your love has been my resting place, the place that I would go, no matter what, no matter where your love would always flow.
A simple call a quick hello, Where have you been?
What do you know?
Just to touch base and share a laugh a smile or two, a joke or gaffe.
What will I do when you are gone?
Who will I call?
There is no other quite like you no other love that's half as true.
no one could do the things you've done, no other one could be my sun, shining brightly as I get your call, "I'm home now dear, what's going on?"
Copyright August 2003 Fran Watson
For more poetry and stories you can go to Fran's webpage http://www.franwatson.ca
Article Source: Messaggiamo.Com
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