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In the Arms of my Mother
My home was in the arms of my mother.
Our bond woven by the strands
of not only nature,
but nurture.
My home was in the eloquent way of her words.
The mysteries of Nancy Drew luring
me to sleep, as her tender voice
danced about my dreams.
My home was in each day bearing a new land of adventure.
From glorious lands of swings and slides
to muted corners of the library.
We found bountiful laughter.
My home is in her selfless passion for others.
Dedicating her life to empowering youth.
Inspiration is not a word
powerful enough.
My home is in our ceaseless, circadian chatter.
Overflowing with cherished conversation.
Her words like the warmth of the
summer sun she loves so.
My home is in compassionate companionship of my mother.
Our bond woven only stronger by the trials of time.
Not only my source of life,
but a life long friend.
My home will be in the soothing smiles we will share.
My years on Earth packed with chatter.
We will have surpassed semantics,
unspoken communication.
My home will be in nurturing love I return to will to her.
I will devote to her the love she raised me into.
Her motherly nature, nothing
short of uncomparable.
My home will be in the aged arms of my mother.
Our bond woven from unbreakable strands.
Grown fragile with nature,
stronger with nurture.
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