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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2086057
To the mother that has been trampled and hurt by this world
Oh Mother, my Mother.
I lay on her ripe belly
Breathing in the flowers that
Grow on her.
Hearing the birds fly
Around her.
Feeling her green hair
Tickling my toes,
My Mother.

Wind whispering
In her reeds,
Carrying stories of
Ancient ships
Buried in the deep
Sands of the ocean.
Sounds of great
Walls, tall buildings
and powerful leaders.
My Mother.

She holds my naked body
As I step into her banks,
Tiptoeing on her rocky back.
Water at my waist,
Than my breasts
And I disappear
In her.
My Mother.

Dark, stars, night.
Crying my heart out in
A sleeping flower field.
Starlight and lightening bugs
Comfort me.
I sigh and shutter
Than lie back.
Back into the flowers.
Their sweet smell
Filling my lungs,
Little heads bobbing in the
Summers breeze.
They bring contentment.
Oh Mother, my Mother.
I love you.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2086057-Ode-to-Mother