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mother
Sometimes,when I look at the
play of light on the leaves,the
trees,
i think she`s there,
smiling that smile,
looking that look.
As a shadow crosses by,
i remember her words,
her lavender songs,
her hope,all freshlhy baked
and full of promise.
But then the world came in
and robbed her of all she had,
as i sit in a world of,"i can`t believe",
my tears drip on yellow
blooms at her feet below.
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