Mother

He makes mistakes,
And she watches him break,
Then picks up his pieces,
Unlike all the others,
She was mother.

Stood in the wings,
Sat in the back of the car,
Watching you grow your wings,
Seeing you begin new starts.

You hold onto the moments,
Like how she held your hand,
When you crossed the road,
As she grows old.

When the clock strikes your golden hour,
She’ll be there,
In your stormiest shower,
She’ll still care,
She’s so much more than just mother.

Author's Note

Hey, I hope you all like this poem, I can’t wait for you to read the whole book. Love always. B x