I am not a babe, child, or teen
and yet the sweet, sweet softness
and love of my mother
overwhelms me at times.
She is gone from this tired earth,
but never from my presence.
I often feel her around,
in the flutter of a butterfly
that lands on my arm;
tickling my tresses on a windless day;
standing beside me in the kitchen,
making her infamous breakfasts.
I know my mother is with You.
I am blessed and we are never alone.
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