That Woman, My Saint


Mother’s love

I miss those days

When a woman cuddled me close to her heart

When that same woman tied me on her back

When she covered me in the embrace of her chest

When she sang me the sweetest lullaby ever

When she stayed awake for me to sleep peacefully

I miss those days

When I  abruptly woke up and she was there to pamper me back to sleep.

When I dropped a tear and behold her hand immediately wiped it away

When I craved something and it was there right before me

When I called out and a voice readily came to my help

When a tap on the back was the in thing for me

I miss those days

When the heavens opened thus the rains

When they poured and I danced in them

When hailstones fell and I ate them as ice

When that woman spanked me for doing this

Yet when thunder roared and I went hiding within her skirts

I miss those days

When my only name was beautiful

When only my family had the prettiest daughters

 When the woman’s only pride lay in the beauty of her children

When living home was like walking in a park of roses

I miss those days when that woman was my Mother.

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Published by

Uwitware

Journalist|Proud Catholic| Writer|Passionate Public Speaker My heart beats for Children.

2 thoughts on “That Woman, My Saint”

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