This Poem was Submitted By: Jennifer Ann Hunt On Date: 2000-09-04 17:04:55 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Precious Memories

I see an old woman, hair silver and grey, with lines on her face as if withering away. There seems a certain glow that I distinctly remember, her smile, her touch, her soft voice so tender. Ah yes, all too clear, precious memories that remain not all I remember but there's a feeling I can claim. Her gentleness, understanding, giving so much of her heart, makes it ever so hard to be very far apart. Her mind has now withdrawn, being unable to recall my name, but when holding hands I know, we're both feeling just the same. She lies curled in a ball never speaking at all to me, yet a tear will trickle down her face very occasionally. At times I might be found with a childish look of amaze, when all at once I'll notice I am remembering my yesterdays. There's more to this old woman with hair silver and grey, she's my mother whom I will cherish for the rest of my days.

Copyright © September 2000 Jennifer Ann Hunt


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